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justkending · 2 months

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On my nerves. (Steve Rogers One-shot)

Summary: Y/N and Steve have a complex relationship. On a busted mission, some conversation pieces come up that need to be solved.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Avenger)

Word Count: 3100+

A/N: I did a small poll on who I should write for next, and I got an even amount of votes, so I decided on Steve! I haven't written for him for a long time and thought it was deserved this long in. So enjoy these fluffy enemies to semi-lovers one-shot :)

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Steve watched, as if in slow-mo, as a knife passed his face and embedded itself into the chest cavity of a man close to getting the jump on him.

"So much for having this mission in the bag, huh?" Y/N's sly comment followed as she jumped from a banister down to the level Steve was on in the attic of an old church.

"The rule was no killing," Steve grunted in frustration as the man he had grasped by the neck fainted, and he tossed him to the side.

"Yeah, well, someone was going to die, and it was either him or the person who's supposed to be running this mission. You should be grateful I didn't choose the second option," she smirked, straightening her tactical vest as she scanned their surroundings. "What's the update?"

Steve could have reprimanded her more, as he was used to doing, but they were on a time crunch, and the men they were sent to take in under SHIELD's order hadn't gotten the memo of no killing.

"Masgood isn't here," he sighed, swiftly anchoring his shield to his back. "He must have gotten word we were coming and staged the place to look like he'd be here."

"Yeah, it seems to be his MO," Y/N sighed, bending as she dug through the pockets of the unconscious assailant.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the body for clues, duh," she replied with a tone of disinterest. She paused, looking up at Steve. "I know this isn't your first rodeo, so why are you acting like it?" One of her forearms rested on her knee as she squatted over the body and dug through his pockets unbothered.

Steve rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet as look at the space. "Something feels off about all this."

"When does it not? We chase bad guys with evil and sadistic intentions as our career. I'd be worried if it felt right," she grunted softly as she stood up and moved to another body.

Steve moved to a window off to the side and looked at the street and environment below for any more clues.

Their target was a man in charge of a large human trafficking ring. Ivan Masgood. An infamous drug lord who started poking around in a new field of illegal activities. Like most felons, he had personal goons and connections that kept him close to untouchable, but SHIELD had plans to shut that down now that he was tapping into the stealing of innocent adolescents from the streets.

"I say we tie these idiots up for the agents that'll come clean up this mess and make our way to the restaurant down a few blocks. Looks like a good Mediterranean place," she sighed, walking over and leaning against a pillar behind the window where Steve was monitoring pedestrians.

Steve turned to her with an annoyed face, one that was a staple for their duo and eyed her.

"We're on a job. A job that involves a man who is taking advantage of innocent children."

"Yes, and we can't solve it on an empty stomach," she shrugged, pushing on the wood. "And this place is empty. We've handled the few goons here, and now we move on."

"Is it really that simple to you?" Steve huffed, crossing his arms as he turned to her.

"If by simple you mean the practiced next step, then yes. It is," she nodded with no hesitance, even with his stern glare fixed on her.

"You're impossible to-"

"Shhh," she hushed, raising her hand and slightly turning her head.

Steve knew better to question her when she did that. Her hearing was better than his most of the time. Her enhancements weren't far from his own, but sometimes they proved to be even more sensitive than his.

He mouthed a "What?" and she shook her head as a hint to hold on. A few moments passed before she shook her head and returned to reality.

"False alarm," she turned, looking at the only door in and out of the attic. "Help me tie these assholes up, and then we're getting dinner."

"Y/N," Steve started, but she ignored him and searched for rope or anything of length to keep them secure.

Three men tied up with both electric chords and Christmas lights were still unconscious as Steve called in the clean-up crew that was there minutes after Y/N and Steve were in the front of the church, giving a quick rundown of their mission.

"It was a 50/50 shot, Cap. Can't get too hung up on it," Rodney, one of the agents who had been working on the case with them, assured.

"Doesn't make it any less frustrating," Steve sighed before grunting at the pressure hitting his chest. He looked down to see Y/N holding a pile of clothes on his sternum.

"Change. We have a date," She grinned, already in street clothes herself.

He gave her a once over and noticed the small grin on Rodney's lips before he quickly walked away.

"Y/L/N!" Steve yelled after her as she turned and was already moving on to her next task. He groaned and slumped as he looked at the jeans and baseball Henley picked out for him. A hat and sunglasses paired on top.

__________

"Why are we here?" Steve grumbled under his breath as they sat in a booth at the Mediterranian restaurant that looked family-owned but had the ambiance of a well-off family—the two fit in a way that raised a few questions.

He wasn't sure how she had managed to drag him there, but either way, he was there, and something about Y/N orchestrating this entire meal left him confused.

"I haven't had a full meal since last night," she answered, staring at the menu before grabbing the waitress's attention as she balanced two plates in hand. "Can we get the drink menu, please?"

"I'll grab it on my way back," she smiled kindly, her voice accented with a Grecian tongue.

"Thank you," Y/N smiled back kindly and went back to the menu. "I heard their Sangria is amazing. And it's homemade."

"Y/N," Steve ground through his teeth. He was fed up with this side quest that served no purpose. "What are we doing here?" he articulated each word.

"Jeez, Cap. Get the popsicle stick out of your ass and relax some. We're just having dinner and waiting for the show," she responded, putting the plastic-covered menu down and throwing her arm over her side of the booth.

"What show-"

"Drinks?" a teenage boy who looked to be one of the owners' kids begrudgingly asked for their orders.

"I'll take water for now, and this one will have a double scotch neat to help ease his never-leaving glower," she smiled up at the kid, who just blinked at her, and Steve burned holes in her head from the side. "Water. We'll both do water."

"Right…" the kid grumbled, not bothering to write the order as he stalked off.

"You said this had to do with the case. That's the only reason I'm here," Steve intertwined his hands on the table and took a breath as he watched her. In truth, she had vaguely mentioned something about the case, and he ran with that one bullet point, which put him in this position.

"Tell me. How does one sign up to gain your trust? Do I have to jump in the line of fire a second time to get it, or is it like whoever gets your coffee order right without asking? Maybe something in between there?" she leaned forward on the table.

Six months ago, Y/N had jumped in front of a blast from a mutant's powers for Steve, and it had benched her for over a week with the aftereffects.

He hadn't expected her to make that kind of sacrifice, and he had been more than grateful and did his best to show it during her healing time and afterward. But at the end of the day, her snarky comments, struggle to stay professional, and blatant disregard for orders made it hard for him not to be aggravated when she did things.

"It's not trust as much as it's being out of the know for what the real reason for us being here is," he softly said when she looked at him with eyes that seemed to genuinely want to know why he treated her with little patience where he normally gave it freely. "I like to be informed."

She watched his eyes closely as if waiting for the but, but then she tensed ever so slightly, and her eyes flicked behind his shoulder casually.

"That's also known as trust. Not knowing the reasons but counting on the person putting you in the position that they wouldn't do it with ill intent. But if you want your answer, it's behind you. Careful how you turn," she said with a straight face as she looked out the window next to them.

Steve furrowed his eyebrow but discreetly twisted enough to see what she was alluding to.

There he was. Ivan Masgood. With four bodyguards around him and a few associates coming through the back entrance, one of the employees ushered him to a secluded corner for him and his posse.

When Steve turned back around, Y/N was on her phone as if just another customer waiting for their meal.

"How'd you-?"

"I'm good at my job despite what some think." Her comment wasn't missed by Steve, and he could hear the slightest bit of pain in her words. "I overheard some of his goons talking not so confidentially at the church. He stupidly gave away their Randevu point and mentioned a meeting with a potential contact while they waited for us to fall for the trap."

"Was it the two at the front door?" Steve questioned, thinking back to their infiltration of the church/ hideout.

"Yeah, dumb and dumber. I think they just got promoted cause the one who leaked this info bragged about being moved to guard his private residence." She put her phone away and fiddled with the paper wrapper from the straw as she explained. "I can promise if they figure out how we got the intel to come here, he will not be guarding any residence in the near future."

Steve was a little surprised. Y/N had always been good at her job. Hell, there was a reason she ran with The Avengers themselves. Super enhancements helped, but she'd always been more than resourceful in her spying, too.

But sometimes, he didn't see her as taking her job seriously, so when she got the jump on things before him, he felt bad for undermining her.

He monitored the place now that it was a possible environment for a fight. Taking note of the details like exits, number of people, tables, resources, and make-shift weapons if needed.

"Have you contacted Rodney?" he asked as he casually surveyed the place.

"Just messaged. They'll have a team a block away to go if needed," she nodded. "For now, we eat," she smiled overly brightly as the waiter came back over with their drinks.

They ordered, but Steve got the smallest appetizer only to make it less conspicuous as customers.

"Eagle's leaving the nest," Y/N hummed as she ate the last bite of her meal, and the group they had been monitoring walked toward the back alley.

Steve shifted in his seat just enough to see the exit, and they both nodded in confirmation of their next move. Y/N slapped down a wad of cash and shuffled out of the booth where Steve offered his hand, and they left out the front.

For the second time that day, Steve watched as a blade whirled past him, but this time, it implanted itself into the tire of an SUV in the back alley, followed by a loud pop.

The assailants hoping to make a getaway were out of a car now, and Steve had taken the advantage to knee the driver's side door where the man halfway in it, ricocheted his head off the frame and collapsed on the ground.

"On your left!" Y/N shouted as she rangled her own opponent, and Steve noticed another one of Masgood's men escaping.

Not wanting to lose his position since Masgood himself was still in the car he had cornered, he angled and calculated the right throw for his shield to take him down. And with the right aim…

"Fuck!" the man shouted before falling down to the concrete seconds after getting smacked in the temple with the vibranuim disc.

Steve turned after hearing Y/N grunt and saw that two of her attackers had cornered her and were getting a jump on her.

"Y/L/N!" he shouted, stepping her way, but she used another man's body as if a wall and walked her feet up his torso until she was backflipping and rendering them both helpless instantly.

"Rogers, Masgood!" she panted once back on her feet and pointed behind him.

Masgood had pulled out the other side of the car and was positioning a gun right at Steve. Everything happened so fast that Steve didn't know where the gunshot had landed after he ducked from the barrel.

A scream followed, and thinking his aim hit someone else, Steve looked around for the injured only to see Masgood holding his shoulder where the butt of a blade was jutting out.

"You fucking bitch!" Masgood turned his attention to Y/N, who had been smiling at her shot. He dropped quickly to grab the gun that fell out of his grip, but before he could get to it, Steve slid over the hood and tackled him.

"That's no way to speak to a lady," Steve gritted out as he pinned him to the ground and brought his hands around his back.

Any of Masgood's men that may have escaped the narrow alley had been caught by the backup team Y/N had set up a block away. By the time the fight was over, eight men were already in custody, and Masgood was locked in a contained SHIELD van.

After going through a briefing with Rodney, who had been instructing the team outside the alley, Steve and Y/N finally took a minute to breathe.

"Thanks for packing my shield," Steve said kindly as they moved to their SUV.

"Didn't want to have you fighting without your comfort item," she smiled but winced as she rolled her shoulder.

"You ok?" he stopped in his tracks, moving in front of her to keep her from going any further.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, moving her shirt sleeve and looking at her arm for the wound. "Just a scratch."

Steve didn't hesitate to shift the long sleeve to see the cut in the fabric and the blood that had soaked through it.

"You were supposed to get checked by the medics," he studied the injury, and she hissed at the pressure of his gentle touch, which was enough to sting.

"It's nothing a bandaid can't fix. Besides, it'll be a scar come morning," she tried to brush his hand off, but he gave her a stern look at the action. "Why are you so worried? I figured you could care less if I walked out with a katana protruding from my gut."

Her eyes refused to meet his, and he hated the feeling that overcame him at the idea that she thought he wouldn't be phased by something like that.

"That's not true," he said gently, his hand loosened its grip but didn't leave her arm.

"You sure as hell don't act any other way," she mumbled, looking at his hand and placing her own on his to try and remove it. "Seriously. You don't have to act like you care just cause you feel bad-"

"Y/N, I'm not acting," he turned her face to his, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger. "I would never wish to see you hurt."

She didn't fight the hold he had her in, but she gave him weary eyes at his comment.

"Your words tell me otherwise, Steve." Her words were said with a form of hurt that he never pictured her holding.

"I'm sorry," he lowered his head every so slightly to catch her eye line better. "I'm sorry that I'm a hardass around you and make you feel like I'd rather see you hurt or injured than alive and well."

"I don't understand what I've done to-" she started and pulled her head back before he, without thought, pulled her arm he had a grip on into him, making her body crash into his.

She froze initially, but when his arms wrapped around her back, he rested his head on her. She sighed and fell into it. She needed that hug more than he realized.

"You get on my nerves, Y/L/N, but it's not in a way that I'd wish never to experience it again. I act like I can't stand it, but truthfully, I need someone to keep me in check the way you do," he muttered as he rested his chin on her head. "I'm sorry I don't give you the benefit of the doubt where you deserve it most."

"Why?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Honestly?" he hummed, pulling her back and looking at her still in his embrace. "I think it scares me how much I actually care when you drive me as crazy as you do."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned her head at him.

"What do you mean, Rogers?" she said in almost a whisper.

"I mean, I can't wrap my head around how you constantly get on my nerves, but I like it."

There was a pause as they stared at each other, and her lips slowly curved.

"Steve. Are you confessing that you may actually like me?" she grinned.

He chuckled under his breath, making his chest vibrate.

"I'm confessing that we may have some things to figure out, I guess," he nodded, not feeling hesitant at surprisingly admitting that.

"Well, isn't that a 180 from how we started the day," she laughed, pulling back. "How about we stop for a sweet treat for this discussion that I'm definitely pulling you into when we get to the compound?"

"Am I going to regret confessing this?" he scrunched his nose but couldn't help the smile that followed.

"It's me. What do you think?" she shrugged, moving toward the SUV passenger side.

"Good to know our ways aren't changing much," he sighed, following behind her to open her door.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @torayuri777 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

#steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x avenger reader #reader insert #mcu reader insert #justkending #marvel insert #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers

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sunriserose1023 · 1 year

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Ignite Your Bones

PAIRING: Bucky x Avenger!Reader WORD COUNT: 10k SQUARE FILLED: Bleeding Through the Bandages WARNINGS: Canon-level violence, injuries, explicit mentions of blood and bleeding, medical terminology, medical situations, angst AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've been working on this one for quite some time. It's a fill for my @badthingshappenbingo card, along with a little enemies to lovers vibe. Title taken from "Fix You," by Coldplay, which definitely fits the last section of this story.

You slammed the door as you walked into the compound, narrowing your eyes at the questioning looks from the people on the couch in the common room.

“The next time you send me on a mission with him, expect him back in pieces, Captain.”

Steve opened his mouth, closing it again when you stomped out of the room. Two seconds after your boots stopped clicking on the kitchen floor, the door slammed again as Bucky made his way into the common room.

“Never in my life have I dealt with anyone so reckless, so … stupid, and I grew up with you, Steve!” “‘Stupid?!’”

Bucky muttered “Goddamn it” under his breath as you stomped back into the room, a bag of Doritos in one hand, orange dust-covered finger poking him in the chest.

“You think I’m stupid?” “Running into a building of heavily armed combatants—“ “Ooh, breaking out the big words, Sarge.” “Get that finger out of my chest before I break it off.”

You dragged your dusty fingers through the stubble on his cheek, smiling wickedly at the disgust on his face as he lifted a hand to wipe off Dorito dust.

“You’re disgusting.” “Kiss my ass, Barnes.”

You turned and walked away before he could say another word, and Bucky glared in your direction before he turned back to the couch.

“Next time you want to send me on a mission with her, don’t.”

Bucky walked down the hallway, muttering under his breath as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. Back on the couch, Steve studied the floor and beside him, Natasha rearranged herself, toes crawling under his thigh until he sighed and shifted, picking up her ankles and setting her feet on his lap. He started massaging her heels, finally looking over, making eye contact with her, seeing the joy in her eyes. He shrugged as he spoke.

“So maybe I did that on purpose.” “You know they hate each other.” “‘Hate’ is a strong word.” “Hiding an even stronger emotion?”

Steve smiled, popping her toes.

“Guess we’ll just see, huh?”

“Of all the rude, idiotic, downright miserable human beings … I mean … he’s such an asshole! Right?”

You turned around, the pure white cat sitting on the floor behind you. She tilted her head, tail swishing back and forth across the tile floor. She gave a questioning meow and you nodded.

“Yeah, Bucky Barnes. I never thought I’d say this, but he’s the bane of my existence. I can’t even breathe right around him. Can you believe that, Alpine?”

She meowed again and you nodded back.

“Trust me, you’d hate him, too. But I’d never subject my best girl to the likes of him. He’s awful, Alp. Just awful.”

She stood up, stretching her paws, arching her back. She walked over to you, weaving her way in and out of your legs, her tail looping around your calf. You bent to scratch your nails on her head, and she bumped her head against your hand.

“Don’t worry, Alpine. We’re better off without Bucky Barnes in our lives. I promise.”

Bucky aimed his gun and fired, turning slightly towards his right before firing again. He straightened once his targets had fallen to the ground, seeing Natasha and Clint on the roof of the building, hearing the steady idling of the quinjet. He heard a distinct sound in his earpiece, watching Natasha turn towards it and he blew out a breath, running towards the east. He shook his head as he saw his target recoil from the punch he had thrown, cursing under his breath as he raised his gun and fired again, the target crumpling to the ground. Bucky tucked his gun away as he slowed to a walk, shaking his head as he loomed over you. From your place on your back on the ground, you slowly met his eyes, squinting your eyes as the sun glared behind him. Bucky sighed, offering a hand.

“You know … sometimes I think you like getting punched.” “Oh, shut up.”

You laid a hand in his as he helped you to your feet. You groaned, lifting a hand to your forehead as Bucky held your shoulders.

“You okay? Seeing double?” “God forbid. If I had to deal with two of you…”

You shook your head, going still and groaning again.

“Take it easy.”

You moved to lean against him, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, laying his metal hand over your left ear.

“Talk to me. What year is it?” “It’s, uh… oh god.”

You pushed him away and Bucky stepped back just in time as you threw up at his feet. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head, closing one eye as he looked up to Nat and Clint. He turned back just in time to catch you as you fainted, shaking his head and lifting you into his arms.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

You laid on your couch with Alpine on the arm at your feet, watching as she licked her paw.

“You know we have a room you could use specifically for bathing.”

She didn’t dignify you with a response, and you sighed as you gingerly rolled your head towards the television. Netflix was playing softly, the documentary you’d tried to watch long since lost your attention. You sighed and turned the TV off, tossing the remote to your coffee table and gently turning your head. You closed your eyes, pulling the blanket up to your chin, exhaling as the throb in your head made itself known again. You gave a quiet moan, smiling when Alpine crept over and curled up on your stomach. You took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Miss Y/N, Sergeant Barnes is requesting entry.”

You gave a quiet moan at the soft voice sounding through the speakers of your apartment.

“Let him in, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

He was just going to have to fend for himself, because your head was hurting too badly for you to do anything except nap. You heard the door unlock and then open, heard it softly click shut. You grunted when Alpine used your belly to launch herself to the back of the couch, tail swishing as her blue eyes studied the intruder.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

His voice was soft, and you answered in turn, not opening your eyes.

“Her name is Alpine. She’s very self-sufficient and she adores Happy. He takes care of her for me when we go on missions.” “Huh.”

You heard Bucky’s careful footsteps as he walked to the couch, giving a sigh when his shadow fell over your face and hid the light. You cracked open one eye when you heard a distinct purr, finding Alpine preening under his gentle touch, moving her head to keep in contact with his hand.

“I think she likes me.” “She has questionable tastes.”

Bucky chuckled as he stepped back, Alpine meowing in protest. You moved your eye to follow Bucky and he nodded to you.

“Sit up.” “No.”

He blew out a breath.

“I’m here to help you.” “My head throbs when I move.” “I know. Bruce sent a pill with me to help that.” “I don’t want—“ “I know. It’s just going to knock you out. Your concussion isn’t that bad. Just painful. Come on.”

You moaned and groaned as Bucky helped you into a sitting position, and he managed to roll his eyes only a few times. You gripped his flesh arm as waves of nausea rolled over you, the throb in your head seeming to echo with every heartbeat.

“Just breathe.”

You whimpered, leaning into him, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his head on yours, shushing you softly, the stubble on his chin tickling your forehead.

“You okay?” “I think so.” “Let me get you some water.”

You nodded, eyes closed as he walked into the kitchen, filling a glass and walking it back. He put the glass in your hand, setting the pill in your other hand. You opened your eyes, wincing as you did.

“What is it?” “It’ll help.” “Bucky.” “I’m not a doctor, but a doctor gave it to me. We trust them, remember?”

You snorted.

“Them I trust. You, not so much.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“Just take the damn pill.” “What if I’m allergic to it?” “That’s why I’m here, and I’m staying until we see how it affects you.”

You gave a shake of your head, moaning softly.

“Nat busy?” “Yes, and Wanda was, too. Sorry, kid. You’re stuck with me.” “I’m not a kid.” “Then take the damn pill.”

You sighed, putting the pill in your mouth and quickly drinking. You wrinkled your nose at the bitter taste, finishing the water.

“Atta girl.” “Don’t patronize me, Barnes. Let me sleep.” “That’s the plan, cupcake. Lay down.” “Do not call me ‘cupcake.’” “Just lay your ass down.”

You did, rolling onto your side and closing your eyes, doing your best to ignore the throbbing in your head. You felt the blanket cover you, but you couldn’t open your eyes again. You felt Bucky’s gentle touch to your forehead, heard his soft murmur to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn off the lights, and your headache started to ease as you drifted to sleep.

Bucky stood over you, shaking his head as your breathing evened out, your eyebrows relaxed, and the pain that had been evident on your face disappeared. Bucky watched you sleep for a moment, turning and going into the kitchen to put the soup Wanda had sent with him into your fridge. He turned and stopped, staring at the cat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her tail swished back and forth over the tiles, blue eyes locked onto him.

“I come in peace. Even though your mom would probably disagree.”

Alpine chirped back at him and Bucky’s eyebrows raised.

“So you’ve heard of me.”

Alpine turned her head and Bucky chuckled.

“I’m sure she’s bitched about me to you, but I’m not that bad, I promise.”

He knelt down and Alpine walked to him, sniffing the hand he held out before bumping it with her head. Bucky smiled, petting the cat.

“See? You can tell I’m a good guy. Well, I mean … might not go that far. But I’m okay.”

He moved to sit on the floor, sighing as Alpine crawled into his lap.

“Your mom just brings out the worst in me. I don’t know why. I mean … you know how she can be, right?”

Alpine chirped and Bucky nodded.

“Exactly. You get it.”

Alpine leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky moved his hand to scratch under her chin.

“She’s really not so bad. It’s just easy to get her riled up. And now we’ve just always acted like this, so why change, you know? But she …”

Bucky glanced towards the living room, where you were softly snoring on the couch. He sighed, shaking his head.

“She’s got to stop being so stupid in the field.”

Alpine gave a quiet hiss and Bucky looked at her with wide eyes.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, but she doesn’t think. She just goes balls to the wall and one of these days she’s going to get killed. I swear to God, she's just like Steve. I’m like a magnet to little bleeding heart do-gooders with no sense of self-preservation.”

Bucky lifted a hand to rub over his face as he sighed. He shook his head, gently ushering the cat off his lap, smiling at her offended glare.

“Come on. I’ve got to stay at least another hour to make sure she’s alright.”

He walked back into the living room, finding you sound asleep and breathing fine. He grabbed a book from your bookshelf and sat in a chair, smiling when Alpine jumped into his lap and curled up, purring when his metal hand began gently petting her.

“I swear to God, if you don’t get your hand off my back, I will break it off and shove it up your—“ “Easy, cupcake. We’re supposed to be deeply in love, remember?”

You smiled as you and Bucky passed a couple in the hallway. You gave the woman a nod, laying your hand against Bucky’s shoulder. When the two of you rounded the corner and it was apparent you were alone, you dug your nails into his neck, pinching right at the pressure point. Bucky’s knees buckled and he stumbled as he cried out.

“Son of a bitch!”

Bucky jumped away from you, blue eyes flashing as he lifted a hand to his neck. You looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, blinking once.

“What’s wrong, dear?” “You’re an insufferable witch.” “Ooh, watch it, cupcake. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”

Bucky stepped closer to you, the hand you expected was going for your throat gentling as voices could be heard just before people rounded the corner. Bucky stepped even closer, his nose brushing against yours as his hand came to rest on your shoulder, his words muttered under his breath.

“I loathe you.”

You gave a breathy giggle.

“Right back at you, toots.”

The people walked away and Bucky stepped back from you, straightening his suit jacket.

“Can we just get the intel and get the fuck out of here?” “It would be my pleasure. Just—“ “Stay out of my way.”

You blinked as Bucky walked away from you, narrowing your eyes as you followed him, heels clicking on the marble floor.

“Priscilla! Oh, there you are darling. You look lovely!”

You took her hands as you accepted the kisses to your cheeks, smiling at the heiress before you.

“Amelia, it’s so good to see you.”

Amelia didn’t even try to hide her blatant perusal of the man beside you and she gave him a demure smile.

“Amelia Weatherford.” “Of Weatherford Jewels?” “Handsome and intelligent. My favorite combination.”

Bucky smiled as he took the hand she offered, pressing his lips to the back of it. You blinked at the sudden flame of fury you felt roll down your spine, shaking your head as he straightened.

“Nicholas Rockefeller.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, as did yours when you turned to Bucky. He winked at you, offering his arm.

“Miss Weatherford—“ “Amelia, please.”

Bucky nodded.

“Amelia, will you excuse us? I promised Prissy a dance.”

Amelia grinned, nodding her head and stepping back, allowing the two of you space to walk to the dance floor. Bucky turned to face you, taking one of your hands, settling his other on your hip. You dug your nails into his hand, setting your other on his shoulder. You put a smile on your face, leaning in closer.

“Rockefeller? Are you out of your goddamned mind?” “You pull out a Rockefeller, no one questions it.” “Maybe that worked in the olden days, Grandpa, but these days that shit can be verified in a few seconds.” “Would you relax and get your fucking nails out of my skin?”

You loosened your hold on him, pulling him closer and studying the room over his shoulder.

“So how’d you cross paths with a jewelry heiress?”

You smiled, murmuring just as softly as Bucky had.

“Undercover op in Ibiza, years ago. I’m actually surprised she remembered me.” “Well, it was Ibiza.” “Good point.”

Bucky moved his hand to the small of your back, eyebrow raising at your sudden intake of breath. Your eyes met his and you shook your head.

“Don’t even. You just took me off-guard.” “Mm-hmm.” “I still can’t believe you went with Rockefeller. That’s not who we agreed on.” “Sometimes you’ve just got to go with whatever strikes you in the moment, cupcake.”

You scoffed.

“Stop calling me cupcake. And don’t ever call me ‘Prissy’ again.” “It’s a common nickname for Priscillas.” “How many Priscillas do you know? You know what? Don’t answer that.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling you closer, smiling when you gasped quietly again.

“Quit it.”

He chuckled again, cheek brushing against yours when he saw a figure over your shoulder.

“He’s here.” “Who?” “You know who.”

You slowly nodded, pressing your temple against his.

“You want to take this one or me?” “I’ll do it. Let’s meet up in ten minutes, cupcake. Don’t be late.” “Fifty bucks says it takes longer.” “I’ll take that bet.”

You giggled, pulling back and staring into his blue eyes. You ran a finger down his nose, tapping his lips before turning away.

“Amelia!”

She rushed to you and you took her hands.

“Do you know where the ladies’ room is?” “Of course!”

Amelia winked at Bucky.

“I’ll bring her right back, Mister Rockefeller.”

Bucky winked back at her, and Amelia giggled as she leaned closer to you, touching your forehead with her own. The two of you began walking away, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky making his way across the room.

“Fifty bucks richer.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms in the cool night air. You glanced around, then went back inside, shivering at the sudden temperature change. You walked to the doorways and looked into the ballroom, quickly scanning the room and coming up empty.

“Yeah, this was a great op to refuse comms. Stupid boy.”

You looked around the hall, hearing a metallic clattering from a room nearby. You shook your head, a sneer on your lips.

“Five to ten odds he’s banging a waitress in the back alley.”

You looked from one end of the room to the other, lips twisting as you murmured to yourself.

You shook your head, putting a smile on your face and making your way through the ballroom. In the hallway, you looked right and then left, before deciding to go left. You stepped to the side when a man in a suit rushed past you, nearly running into you, and you narrowed your eyes at him before you continued on your journey. You rounded a corner and let out a breath.

“There you are.”

Bucky was standing with his back to you in the middle of the hallway. You shook your head, dress swishing on the ground, heels clicking on the floor as you rounded to stand in front of him.

“‘Let’s meet up in ten minutes, cupcake. Don’t be late.’ And what happens? Cupcake shows up like always. Grumpy Old Man flakes, as usual.”

Bucky didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t shrug and turn away from you, like just the sight of you was enough to make him sick. He didn’t make any movement at all, which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You glanced at his feet, going still at the drops of blood by his shoes. You moved a hand to gently touch his shoulder.

“Buck? Hey. What’s wrong?”

He blinked, slowly moving his eyes to yours. Your eyebrows furrowed at the look on his face, paler than usual, paler than you were comfortable with. Your ears perked up at the sharp exhalation he gave, and you shook your head as your eyes combed over him.

“What happened? What?” “I think … I think he stabbed me.” “What?”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed the lapels of Bucky’s suit jacket, opening it and gasping when you saw the crimson spreading over the right side of his stark white shirt.

“Oh, shit.”

You pressed a hand against his side and he gave a quiet moan. You looked over his shoulders, then behind yours and he shook his head.

“He’s gone. I didn’t … I didn’t get—“ “It’s okay. Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”

Bucky nodded, and you stayed beside him, hand pressed against his side as the two of you took a step together. Bucky shook his head, reaching to grab hold of your arm.

“Damn it, that hurts.” “Hang in there, Buck. Just one foot in front of the other.”

He nodded, looping an arm around your neck. He grunted with every slow step the two of you took, sweat breaking out over his forehead. You could feel your hand getting wetter as the bleeding continued, but Bucky refused to stop until the two of you were outside. You looked around, speaking as you scanned the parking lot.

“Let me get a cab.” “No, I—“ “You can’t walk all the way to the hotel.” “No, but I can’t bleed all over a cab either.”

Your mind was racing, and you turned your head to look at him.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” “No. Just …”

Bucky blew out a breath, blinking wide eyes before exhaling again.

“Do you know how to hot-wire a car?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Do I look like a natural-born idiot? Of course I know how to hot-wire a car!”

Bucky grinned, sweat rolling down his pale face. You swallowed as you looked at his side and he nodded. You helped him take his jacket off, balling it up and pressing it against his side. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut, nodding as you moved your hands away and moved his to hold the jacket in place. You ran through the parking lot, ignoring the shaking in your hands as you found a nondescript dark-colored SUV, easily picking the lock on the driver’s side door and quickly hot-wiring the car. You drove to where you’d left Bucky, helping him into the passenger’s seat. You pulled open the glove compartment and almost cried in relief.

“Look! First aid kit.”

You pulled it out and opened it up, finding the biggest bandage you could. Bucky gritted his teeth as he lifted his shirt and you pressed the bandage to his skin, doing your best to ignore the immediate spread of blood under it. You shook your head, pulling his shirt down, going to the driver’s side and climbing in, speeding away from the gala and towards the nondescript motel you were staying.

“Are you—“ “I’m okay.”

You nodded, both hands tightly gripping the wheel. You kept your eyes on the road, shaking your head.

“I thought you had the serum to heal you.” “I do, but it’s not always … instantaneous.”

You bit your bottom lip hard, making yourself smile.

“You don’t have to try and impress me with big words, you know.”

Bucky barked a laugh, but it trailed into a groan. You white-knuckled the steering wheel, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the motel.

“Thank god. We made it.”

You looked over to see Bucky with his eyes closed, big body slumped against the door.

“No! No, Buck, stay awake. Bucky!”

He jumped when you threw an arm over, smacking his shoulder. He blinked wide eyes and you shook your head.

“Don’t go to sleep.” “Okay.” “I mean it, Bucky. Stay with me.”

He nodded, groaning as he pressed a hand to his side. You parked the car and jumped out, running to help him out of the car, looping his arm around your neck, helping him lean onto you as the two of you hobbled into the room. He immediately collapsed onto the bed and you stood over him, ripping his shirt open and giving a shaking breath.

“Jesus, Buck.”

You bit your tongue as you saw the blood-soaked bandage you’d placed on him. He nodded, wincing as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck, it hurts.” “I know. Let me …”

Your words trailed off as you ran into the bathroom, gathering towels and wetting one.

“My … suitcase.”

You poked your head out of the bathroom to see Bucky pointing and you unzipped the front pocket of his suitcase to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Thank God.”

Bucky nodded as you hurried back into the bathroom, gathering the towels and the alcohol and heading back to him. You walked into the room to see Bucky with his eyes closed, blood-covered hand hanging over the edge of the bed.

“No! Bucky, no.”

He jumped at your sharp tone, eyes sluggishly opening. You shook your head as you dropped your supplies onto the bed before looming over him.

“You stay with me. Do not close your eyes.”

Bucky smirked as you turned away.

“First you … rip my shirt off, then you … boss me around. Keep … keep it—-“ “You can’t even talk, much less pretend like you could get it up. Don’t even.”

Bucky laughed, groaning when you pulled the bandage off his side. You tossed the blood-soaked bandage off the bed, pouring alcohol over his wound before pressing the wet towel against his side. You increased the pressure and his groan grew louder, metal hand moving to grip your arm.

“I’m sorry.” “Don’t. You’re … fine. Don’t let me hurt you.”

You nodded, trying your best to clean the wound. Blood continued to bubble out and you shook your head.

“God, there’s so much blood.” “Might’ve n … nicked the liver.” “No, there’s got to be … oh, fuck. Fuck, Bucky. He got you twice.”

Bucky rolled as best he could when you tapped his shoulder, and you gave a quiet whine when you saw the wound to his back, inches from the first wound. You shook your head as you moved the towel and pressed both of your hands to both of his wounds.

“Goddamn it, Y/N.” “Don’t give me shit right now. I’m trying to save your life.” “I know. I’m just …”

He wheezed out a breath, and you quickly set a thick bandage on the wound on his back. Bucky rolled back to his back, wincing as you put another bandage on his front.

“Just breathe.”

Bucky nodded, widening his eyes. You shook your head, leaning over him.

“Come on, bionic man. You’ve got an arm made out of the strongest metal in the world and you’re going to let a little prison shank take you out?”

Bucky wheezed out a laugh, his metal arm moving to cup your elbow, thumb rubbing over your skin as his sleepy eyes met your own.

“I’ll be … fine.” “Please don’t leave me, Buck. Stay with me.”

He nodded, eyes drifting closed.

“No, damn it. No! Open your eyes and keep them open. Bucky, please. Oh, look what you’ve done. You got blood on your dog tags.”

He blinked his eyes open at that, looking down to see your blood-covered fingertips grab onto his dog tags before letting them sit in your bloody palm. He shook his head, your thumbprint perfectly outlined on the smooth side of the metal.

“You did that.” “Prove it.”

Bucky groaned, head falling back on the pillow.

“Fuck.” “I know. Just hold on.”

Your eyes widened when you looked down at the bandage, blood seeping out from under it. You swallowed and pulled the bandage off, cleaning the blood as best you could before finagling a piece of gauze and taping it to his skin. Blood quickly soaked through the gauze and bubbled around the tape.

“You’ve got to … stitch it up.”

You looked up and met his eyes, shaking your head.

“What? No. No, I …I can call for—“ “For what?”

You looked at his pale face, watching his eyes slowly blink open, the icy blue dull around his widening pupils. He gave a slow shake of his head.

“They … won’t make it.” “Buck, I can’t.” “You … have to. You … you’re my only … hope.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head. You opened your eyes again and he gave you a small smile. He nodded and you blew out a breath.

“Oh, god.” “You … can do this.”

You nodded, stepping back from the bed and to his suitcase, pulling out a sewing kit. You blew out a breath, shaking your head.

“Goddamn it.”

You grabbed a needle and some thread, moving back to the bed and picking up the bottle of alcohol, pouring it over the needle. Your hands shook as you tried to thread the needle, stilling when you felt metal fingers gently brushing your elbow again. You looked at him and Bucky smiled.

“You’ve got this.”

You shook your head, staring into his sleepy eyes.

“I’ve never sewn anything before.” “Nothing … to it. Just … back and—back and forth.”

You nodded again, doing as he instructed, listening to his murmurs as he walked you through how to knot the thread. You blew out a breath and wiped the towel over his skin, cleaning away the blood.

“Pinch the … skin together.”

You did as he said, doing your best to ignore his wince. He shook his head.

“Don't … pay atten—attention to me. Just do it.” “Okay, Nike.”

He gave a breathy laugh, groaning as you took the opportunity and pushed the needle through his skin. Your eyes were wide, mouth open when you saw what you’d done to him, the stark black thread standing out against his skin.

“Oh my god.” “Keep—keep going. In and—“ “Out. In and out.”

Bucky nodded, groaning again as you pulled and tugged, pushing the needle into his skin, pulling it out, closing the wound on his side. You tied another knot in the end of the thread, helping Bucky move the slightest bit onto his side. You couldn’t stop the whine from escaping your lips when you saw the blood-soaked bandage on his back, pulling it off and cleaning the wound as best you could. You licked your lips and cleared your mind, focusing only on the task at hand, going through the same motions as you stitched up the other, albeit smaller, wound. You gave a sigh of relief, laughing softly.

“Okay. Okay, that’s it. They’re closed.”

You rolled Bucky back to his back, the breath catching in your throat when you saw his eyes closed.

“No, no, no. Bucky? Buck, open your eyes.”

He didn’t do what you said this time. Your hand gently slapped his face, and you let the tears come when he gave a soft moan, trying to move away from you. You nodded, your hand resting against his cheek as you brought your knees up, resting your elbow on them as you put your forehead against your wrist and cried.

After a moment, you sniffed and stood up, going into the bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror. Your gown was stained with Bucky’s blood, your hands were covered in it, it was caked under your nails. You even had blood on your forehead. You closed your eyes, opening them again to see your blood-soaked reflection staring back at you.

“Carrie. I’m Carrie at the prom.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips and you lifted a hand with the intention of covering your mouth. The laughter died as you gasped instead, staring at your hand. You took in a shaky breath, glancing over your shoulder and watching Bucky’s chest rise and fall a few times. You walked to the shower and turned it on, not even bothering to check the temperature before you walked into the shower fully clothed.

You sat on the side of the bed, eyes focused on Bucky’s chest as it rose and fell. You’d at least combed your hair when you got out of the shower, leaving it in wet ropes around your head. You’d pulled on a pair of sweatpants before rifling through Bucky’s bag and stealing one of his Henleys.

You’d felt so cold ever since you’d gotten out of the shower.

You looked down at the phone in your hand, taking in a breath before letting it out slowly. You tapped the screen until you found a number, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” “Hey, it … it’s me.” “Hey, you. How’s it going?”

You looked to the bed, shaking your head as your bottom lip wobbled.

“Not … not great.” “What’s wrong?” “Bucky got stabbed.” “Jesus. Is he okay? Where are you?” “We’re at the motel. Clint, I had to sew him up.”

You couldn’t fight back the sob, and you put your forehead in your hand as you heard Clint murmuring through the phone.

“Y/N, it’s Steve. Is he alive?”

You nodded until you trusted your voice.

“He’s unconscious, but he’s breathing. I had to sew up the wounds and I’ve never done that before. You need to come get us and get him to a doctor.” “I’m sure you did fine.” “There was so much blood.”

Steve didn’t say anything after your whisper, and his voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“We’re on the way.” “We didn’t finish the mission.” “That doesn’t matter now.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as Clint came back on the line, telling you they’d be there in a few hours. You hung up the phone, moving to the other bed, lifting a shaky hand to brush through Bucky’s hair.

“They’re coming, Buck. Steve’s coming and he’s going to help you. You’re going to be okay.”

Bucky muttered nonsense words, and you shushed him, hand coming to rest against his cheek. Bucky murmured again, leaning into your touch before settling down again.

You sat on the other bed and watched as Steve ran in, hitting his knees beside the bed where Bucky was still sleeping. Clint pulled up a hologram of Helen Cho, who praised your stitches and instructed the boys to get Bucky to her cradle ASAP. They were loading him onto a stretcher when Wanda walked in, kneeling before you.

“Hey, you. Let’s go home.”

You turned your head to meet her eyes, your own eyes narrowing. Even though you’d been watching and hearing everything that was happening around you, you felt far away, like you’d been watching television instead of real life. You swallowed, giving Wanda a nod when she murmured your name again. She held out a hand and you grabbed onto it, holding tighter than you realized. You blinked when you noticed Sam grabbing your suitcases.

“The … the dress.” “What dress, honey?”

You blinked as you looked at Wanda again, like you weren’t entirely sure if she was there.

“The dress for the gala. It’s … it’s in the bathroom.”

Wanda nodded to Sam.

“We’ll take care of it. Come on, sweetie.”

You followed her lead, still gripping tightly to her hand as she led you to the quinjet.

Two weeks later, Bucky walked into the kitchen, heading for the fruit bowl.

“How are there never any bananas? I swear to god, I put them on the grocery list yesterday.”

Natasha’s eyebrows raised, but she didn’t say anything as she spread peanut butter over the piece of bread in her hand. Bucky blew out a breath, muttering to himself as he picked up an orange instead.

“Nat, are you stealing all the bananas?” “Do I look like a banana thief?”

Bucky shrugged his metal shoulder as he peeled his orange. Natasha glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“We have knives for that, you know?”

Bucky grinned at her with a section of orange in his mouth and she rolled her eyes. She finished her sandwich, leaving the room without a goodbye. She made her way down the hall, knocking softly on a door, hearing F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement of who was at the door. At the click of a lock, Natasha walked into the apartment.

“Hey, I brought you some lunch.” “Just a sec.”

Natasha walked into the kitchen, hearing you curse under your breath. She sighed, looking at the pile of banana peels at your elbow.

“Y/N…” “Hey, Nat.”

You scrambled to hide whatever was in your hands from her and Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” “Nothing. Did you say something about lunch? I’m starving.” “It’s just a peanut butter sandwich.” “Ooh, my fave.”

You pushed your chair away from the table, turning your back to Natasha quickly so she wouldn’t see your hands.

“What are you trying to hide from me?”

You faltered at that, pausing a moment before walking to the sink.

“Nothing.” “Y/N—“ “Drop it. Please.”

Natasha sighed, setting the sandwich down and crossing her arms over her chest. She waited until you walked back to the table, staring you down until you sighed and sat in the chair.

“What’s going on with you?”

You put your head in your hands in lieu of answering her. Natasha shook her head.

“Come on. You’ve been avoiding the team ever since you got back from that mission with Bucky. Steve’s about ready to mandate therapy for you.” “Steve can’t do that.” “He’s the Captain. He can do what he wants.”

You snorted and Natasha sighed, sitting across from you.

“Come on, kid. Talk to me.” “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Can I have my sandwich now?”

You let your hands fall by your sides. Natasha stared at you, but you stared right back, and she eventually sighed and nodded. You slid the plate closer to you and took a bite out of the sandwich.

“So you’re the one that’s been stealing the bananas?” “I thought this was lunch, not an interrogation.” “The evidence is overwhelming.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the way you spoke with your mouth full, then motioned to the banana peels at your elbow. You swallowed the bite you’d taken, lifting your shoulders.

“I’m really into smoothies?”

Natasha just cocked an eyebrow and you blew out a breath.

“I made banana bread last week.” “I know. Clint kept making perverse comments about how good it was.”

You smiled at that, looking down at the sandwich. You gently pushed the plate away, your sandwich with one bite missing staring back at you.

“Hey.” “I’m not doing anything illegal or unmentionable with the bananas.” “You know I don’t care about that.”

Natasha reached over and laid a hand on your wrist.

“I’m worried about you.”

Her eyes softened when you lifted tear-filled ones to her. You shook your head and she tightened her hold on you. You gave a shaky exhale and shook your head again.

“I’m sorry about the bananas. I’ll make my own grocery order or something.” “Honey, that’s not the point.”

You tugged your hand away from her, wiping your eyes.

“I, uh … I’ve really got to clean out my bathroom. It’s horrible. Can’t even remember the last time I mopped it.” “Talk to me.” “I’m just busy, Nat. I'm fine.” “You’re not—“ “Can you lock the door on your way out?”

Natasha sighed as you walked away, closing a door down the hall. She closed her eyes, hanging her head as she exhaled again. She picked up the sandwich you didn’t eat, biting into it herself as she left your apartment, locking the door behind her.

“No.” “Come on, Wanda. It’s for the greater good.”

Wanda raised one eyebrow as Sam tried to hide his smile. Natasha was unperturbed, taking one of Wanda’s hands.

“Something is going on with her. She hasn’t been to movie night or game night or even dinner in two weeks. Almost three! You know how she is.”

Sam tilted his head.

“You know that last mission took a toll on her.” “I know it did, but she usually bounces back quicker than this.”

Wanda laid her other hand on top of Natasha’s.

“You didn’t see what we saw when we picked them up, Nat. She just needs time to process this.” “It’s been two weeks. This is past ‘processing time.’ This is mentally fucked up time now.”

Wanda looked to Sam, who stared back at her, a silent conversation passing between them. Wanda sighed, turning back to Natasha.

“I don’t like this.” “Let the record state she doesn’t like this.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled. Wanda sighed again, standing up and brushing off the dress she was wearing before making her way down the hall. She stopped outside your room, putting her ear to the door, closing her eyes as they began to glow red.

“And pull slowly … there. Perfect.”

Wanda turned her head slightly as she listened to your thoughts.

You can’t even see it! That’s a surgeon’s precision there. “Excellent work, Agent. Do you want to try the chicken now?”

Wanda blinked her eyes open when she heard the second voice. It sounded different, further away, and she thought the voice had to be coming through your phone or computer.

“Ew, it’s slimy.” “You knew it would be. Remember how we talked about it?” “Right. It’s more like normal skin, and with an injury, slime is a possibility.”

Wanda heard a tinny laugh, and she closed her eyes again as your voice went silent, save for the one in your head.

Take a breath. You need this practice. You have to do this right. Next time could be life and death.

Wanda’s brows furrowed as she laid a hand on the door.

In and out. In and out. Don’t forget to breathe. In and out. “Very good. Go just a bit deeper … that’s it. Perfect.”

Wanda’s red eyes opened when the soft sound of your thoughts echoed in her mind.

I need to figure out how to make this bloody. It’s slippery enough as it is, but the blood adds an extra obstacle. Remember how Bucky’s blood soaked the needle and thread? “Agent, clear your mind. Keep your focus on the task at hand. That last stitch slipped.” “Sorry.” “It’s still very good.”

Wanda turned the doorknob, silently making her way into your apartment, stopping at the entry to your kitchen. You were sitting at the table with your back to her, your laptop on the table, along with a small pile of bananas and a raw chicken breast.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, quickly turning in your chair.

“Wanda? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?” “Agent, I think this will end our session today. Very good work.”

You turned back as the video call ended with a chime, and you blew out a breath as you hung your head. Wanda stepped further into the kitchen, eyes scanning the room.

“What are you doing in here? Why do you have so many bananas?” “Wanda, you need to go.”

Wanda’s eyes started glowing as you tried to hide the contents on the table from her.

Shit. God, she can’t know. Nobody can know. They won’t understand.

“What won’t we understand?”

You whirled around, eyes full of hurt.

“Are you in my head?”

Wanda blinked, her eyes cooling back to their normal color. You gave an almost silent laugh.

“You were. You were listening. You promised you’d never do that.” “Everyone is worried about you. You won’t leave this apartment. Ever since your mission with Bucky, you’ve closed off.”

You couldn’t help but flinch when she mentioned Bucky and that disastrous mission. Wanda’s eyes softened as she took a step closer.

“This has something to do with that, doesn’t it?” “Can you just mind your own business?” “Not when you’re hurting this badly and won’t let any of us help. We know what you’re going through.”

You whirled to face her, eyes wide.

“How?! How could any of you know what I’m feeling? You weren’t there. You didn’t have his blood all over your hands, all over your dress. You didn’t stand in the shower and watch his blood flow down the drain. You didn’t do everything you could to help him and it wasn’t enough.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as yours did.

“You didn’t watch him almost bleed out. You didn’t have to push a needle through his skin to try to hold him together.” “Oh, honey.”

You shook your head, stepping away from her. You went to the sink and turned the water on, pumping soap into your hands and rubbing them together. Wanda lifted a hand to her lips as she watched you, tears sliding down your face and dripping into the sink. When she noticed the steam from the water, she rushed over and turned the water off, turning the cool side on and gently moving your hands under the water.

You gripped the edges of the sink as Wanda turned the water off. She took your hands in hers, drying them off gently.

“You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

You lifted your head, tear-filled eyes meeting hers. She gave you a sad smile, pulling you into a hug. You put your face in her shoulder and let her hold you, not seeing her eyes start to glow red, but feeling your own eyes grow heavier and heavier until you couldn’t help but close them. Your knees slowly buckled and Wanda helped you, going with you until you were laid out and sleeping peacefully on the floor.

Wanda sighed, going to your door and opening it, whistling softly. Sam and Natasha popped their heads around the corner as Wanda raised an eyebrow, then motioned for them to come. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she looked around the kitchen, widening when she saw the bananas and the chicken, the needle and thread.

“Oh my god.” “Sam, can you…?”

He nodded, gently brushing past Natasha as he walked to you, kneeling and lifting your sleeping body into his arms. You curled against his chest and he closed his eyes before carrying you down the hall and into your bedroom.

Natasha met Wanda’s eyes and Wanda crossed her arms over her stomach.

“She had a doctor on the computer who was talking her through stitches.” “That’s why she kept stealing the bananas.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow and Natasha walked over, picking up a pristine yellow banana.

“If you do it correctly…”

She unpeeled the banana and Wanda’s eyebrows raised at the neat black stitches on the peel.

“You can’t even tell it was peeled.” “She’s out. What’s going on with the prep line in here?”

Natasha showed Sam the stitches in the banana peel and he closed his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Shit.”

Natasha and Wanda nodded. After a moment of silence, Wanda spoke.

“Now comes the hard part. Do we tell Bucky?”

You woke up with a headache, feeling quite hungover even though you hadn’t drank a drop of alcohol. You sat up in the bed, putting your head in your hands.

No matter how hard you’d tried, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and the last mission the two of you went on. You couldn’t get the sight of his pale face out of your head, the way the blood wouldn’t stop, soaking through the bandages you’d tried to put on him. You felt like Lady Macbeth because in your dreams, you couldn’t get his blood off of your hands, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

You crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom, trying and failing to avoid your reflection in the mirror. There were dark circles under your eyes, and your complexion was dull. You hadn’t left your apartment in a few weeks, hadn’t even gone outside. You were too preoccupied with the bananas and the stitching.

You sighed and pulled your unwashed hair into a bun on top of your head, leaving the bathroom and coming to a hard stop when you saw the man sitting on your couch. Bucky lifted his eyes to yours, metal hand still as Alpine sniffed all over it.

“Long time no see.”

You nodded.

“I’ve been busy.” “You’re the one that’s been stealing all the bananas.”

You shook your head.

“I mean, yeah at first, but I’ve done my own grocery order for a while.” “Why?”

You lifted a hand to scratch at your neck.

“No reason.” “Babe, we’ve got to work on your tells.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, dropping your hand and looking down at the floor.

“Tell me why you needed so many bananas, Y/N.” “I went on a banana diet.” “Stop going up on your toes. That's another tell.”

You went to your flat feet, eyes cast down. You heard Alpine’s annoyed mrow as Bucky stood up and when he took a step towards you, you took a step back. He took a step back and you lifted your eyes to his. He held up his hands, sitting back down on the couch. Alpine moved to sit in his metal palm and he smiled. He brought his eyes back to you, seeing you staring at the floor still.

“Cupcake, look at me.”

You did as he asked, and his voice was gentle when he spoke.

“Why did you steal all the bananas?” “Why are you so obsessed with bananas? Did they not have them back in the old days?” “Quit deflecting and answering my question with a question. Tell me the truth.” “It doesn’t matter.” “To me, it does.”

You looked away from him as tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“If you’re not going to tell me the truth, let me tell you what I think, alright? I think you stole the bananas to practice stitching them up. Because if you do it right, you can’t even tell the banana’s been peeled.”

You looked down at the floor, Alpine sitting up and jumping down from the couch beside Bucky to walk to you. She gave a curious meow when a tear fell from your eyes and landed on her nose.

“You’ve been practicing stitching until you’re damn near perfect at it.” “I’m not perfect at it.” “Yet another lie.”

You lifted your eyes to his, shaking your head.

“You don’t understand.” “Enlighten me.”

You didn’t notice your hands were shaking as you spoke, the tears also falling unnoticed.

“You were dying. You were dying and I was trying to hold you together. I was holding the stupid bandages against the holes in your side and you were dying. I can still smell it, Bucky. The whole room smelled like copper and I couldn’t make it go away.”

You moved your shaking hands to press them against your stomach, and Bucky’s heart lurched when he realized you were pressing on your body the places where he was stabbed. He stood up and you backed away again, the tears coming harder.

“I kept begging you to stay with me and you kept trying to fucking die. I had to hold your skin and literally stitch you back together with a needle and thread. I’ve never sewn anything in my life and the first thing I ever sewed was you.”

Your back hit the wall and Bucky stopped inches from you. You shook your head, unable to do anything but sob. Bucky took hold of one of your hands, ignoring Alpine’s warning meow and hiss, pressing your palm against his chest. You tried to pull your hand from his grasp, but he had an iron hold on it.

“Breathe.”

You did, shaking your head as you sobbed. Bucky flattened your palm against the center of his chest and spoke again.

“Feel that?”

You shook your head, and he squeezed your wrist for a split second, urging you again.

“Do you feel that?”

You took in a ragged breath, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your palm. You met his icy blue eyes and he raised his eyebrows in question. You nodded, and he adjusted his grip so that both his hands were holding your wrist, holding your palm to the center of his chest.

“You saved me. My heart is still beating because of you.” “There was so much blood.” “But you stopped it.”

You shook your head.

“I didn’t do enough.” “Not enough? You saved my life, cupcake.”

You shook your head again.

“I should have known what to do beforehand—“ “What, because you knew I’d get stabbed?”

Your eyes met his and he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You did what needed to be done and I’m still here because of it. Because of you.”

Your knees buckled as your hand fell from his chest, but Bucky gathered you in his arms before you hit the floor. You clung to him, arms holding him tightly as you cried into his chest. He held you, flesh hand gently rubbing your back, shushing you softly, but letting you cry.

He shifted and lifted you into his arms, and you put your face in his shoulder as he carried you down the hall. You felt yourself be lowered to your bed, but you stayed clinging to Bucky until he lay down with you.

“I got you. Shh. I’m here.”

You kept holding onto him, staying close when he rolled onto his back. You kept your head on his shoulder and an arm around his stomach, one of his arms steady around you and holding you close. You slid your hand up to the middle of his chest, closing your eyes when you felt his strong heartbeat under your palm.

Bucky woke with a start, eyes opening to find white fur filling his vision. Alpine tilted her head as Bucky met her blue eyes, and he glanced towards the door when he heard your voice.

“She’s not the best about sleeping in. I tried to tell her to leave you alone, but… I think she has selective hearing.” “Wonder where she gets that from.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your towel to your wet hair. Bucky sat up in the bed after sliding Alpine off his chest, smiling at her irritated chirp. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shifting to where he could look at you. You moved the towel off your head to hold it in your hands, speaking more to it than to Bucky.

“Thank you for staying with me last night.” “You needed a friend. I didn’t mind.”

You slowly nodded.

“So we’re friends now?”

Bucky softly smiled as he looked down at his hands, clenching his metal one into a fist, then releasing it.

“Do you think we are?”

You sighed.

“I thought you hated me.” “I never hated you.” “You’ve got a weird way of showing that.”

Bucky nodded.

“You want to know the truth?” “It’d be nice.”

Bucky smiled as he looked over at you.

“You’re good. And smart, but you listen to your heart more than your head. You’re so much like Steve, and I knew if I didn’t rein you in somehow, you’d sacrifice yourself into the ocean just like he did.” “And that morphed into you hating me … how?” “I never hated you.”

Bucky blew out a breath.

“It was just easier to fire up that brother/sister relationship with you. And then you gave as good as you got and it was easier to make you think I hated you than to really—“

Your breath caught in your throat when he cut himself off. He shook his head, standing up and heading for the bedroom door.

“Really what?” “You want coffee?” “I want you to finish what you started.”

He grabbed onto the door frame, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“You really don’t know where that sentence was going?”

You swallowed and shook your head, and he blew out another breath.

“C’mon, cupcake. There’s no way you can’t know.”

You did. At least, you thought you did. All those times you caught him looking at you with that soft smile, the way he tried to cover it by rolling his eyes and looking away. The gentle touches when you were hurt, the way he always seemed to be the one to volunteer to go on missions with you.

The way your heart pounded when you realized he was hurt.

The fear in your chest you thought would consume you when you couldn’t get the bleeding to stop.

The begging you did for him to just stay with me, don’t leave me.

“Cupcake?”

You met his eyes with tears welled up in yours. He stepped away from the door and walked to you, shaking his head.

“What did I say? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shook your head, laying your hands on his chest.

“You didn’t. I just … I haven’t cried this much in a long time.” “I think you’re sort of emotionally constipated and it’s all coming out now.”

You laughed as you shoved him away. He stumbled back, a blinding smile on his lips. You shook your head.

“You’re the worst.” “You know you love it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the floor and Bucky gave a quiet sigh. He turned away and when he was at the door again, you spoke.

“I didn’t realize. I mean … I kind of did. But you always acted like you hated me, so I pushed it down and tried to convince myself that I …”

He kept one hand on the door frame, turning his head towards you, keeping his eyes away from you.

“That what?” “That it wasn’t attraction I felt towards you. Then I tried to convince myself that you were like a brother to me and that hurt more. So I just locked it down and like you said, gave as good as I got.”

Bucky fully turned to face you and you swallowed again.

“Everything was fine until you got hurt. Faced with the prospect of losing you … I lost it. I tried so hard not to let it show, but I … Bucky, I was so scared. You were so pale and there was so much blood and no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop it.” “You did stop it.” “I thought I was too late. I just prayed that you would wake up and I went and showered with my dress on. Watched the blood go down the drain.”

You sucked in a breath when you saw him in front of you. You’d been staring at the floor, lost in your own mind. Bucky reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“You can’t hold onto that anymore. It’s over. It’s done. No matter what happened in that hotel room, I’m here and I’m fine.” “I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I close my eyes, I see my hands covered in your blood. After I stitched you up, I went into the bathroom and I swear I looked like Carrie after the prom.”

His eyebrows furrowed and you shook your head, waving him off.

“I can’t just let it go, Buck.” “Then give it to me.”

You looked up and met his eyes, the icy blue earnest as he stared into your eyes.

“Let me carry it for you.”

You started to shake your head and he took hold of your hands.

“If not me, then someone else. We’ll find you someone to talk to, who can help you through this.”

You held tightly to his hands and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. You sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly as you closed your eyes. Bucky lifted his head to press his lips against your forehead, and you stepped forward, putting your face in his chest. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around you and you turned your head to where his heartbeat was directly under your ear. You kept your eyes closed as a Bucky started to gently sway.

“Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?” “Have you asked me to go on a date with you?” “I thought it was this unspoken thing.”

You shook your head, leaning back and staring up at him.

“You’re old, and your mind must be going.” “I’ll show you—“

You shut him up by going on your toes and pressing your lips to his. Bucky’s shocked inhale sounded a second before his hands tugged you closer, and you threw your arms around his neck. When you broke apart, both of you silently panting for air, Bucky gave a quiet laugh.

“Took you long enough.”

#bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #female reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers au #bad things happen bingo

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 11 months

Text

as it was

pairing: peter parker x sister!reader

WC: 3K

warnings: small mentions of anxiety, maybe some cursing, just no way home angst. there is no physical description of reader, so you could read this as adopted!reader or however.

summary: you feel like there’s something missing from your life when may dies. you just aren’t sure what that thing is.

A/N: i started this april 11, 2022. something just came upon me to start writing for this draft again. i dont live in nyc so ignore all directions. my own gif (that’s why it’s shit)

@alecmores my editor💗

been in the drafts since march 25

masterlist

You were sitting in front of her grave.

The cold chill of New York winter settles into your bones. The trees were barren of any leaves with autumn having left a few weeks ago, no snowfall yet thankfully. The grass has been freshly cut along with some watering causing you to sit in a bit of wet grass, at least your coat was taking the moisture.

You brought some new flowers, just some simple white roses. The other flowers have been slowly wilting since your last visit, and you never want to have dead flowers resting with Aunt May’s grave.

As you replace the flora you sit back on the ground with the wilting stems staying in your hands to keep you from fidgeting around and picking the grass as you talk to her. You try to visit once a week, but sometimes you can only come twice a month because it will just hit you really hard one day that you have no one left, no immediate family anymore. The closest you have to any type of family is Happy Hogan, MJ, and Ned, which is kind of weird because when you think of your memories that involve the three of them, something is missing, a piece of a puzzle that won’t fit in its place.

“How are you today, may?” The wind just blows the hair around your face in different directions.

“I started to work at the Peter Pan cafe with MJ. Sometimes we have shifts together, but honestly, it’s kinda rare since it doesn’t get too busy there. The boss is an older man who’s lazy and has a snippy attitude for no reason, but it's an easy job. Don’t have to worry about my anxiety kicking in.” You stared down at your gloved-covered hands that clutched your crossed legs. Your lips rolled together as you let the silence cover you, thinking of what else to mention.

“Uh… Happy. Happy- he misses you, I miss you. He- uh… he took me in, unofficially adopted me. I’m thankful for him cause if I had to do all this- this, I don’t know, just I’m thankful he took pity on me and didn’t leave me to the wolves. MJ and Ned said they would’ve taken me in, but I think they just said it out of friendliness.” You shrugged your shoulders at the thought.

You perked your head up and glanced around the cemetery. Dozens of headstones, some having more grandeur stone carvings with angels or whatever. Fallen autumn leaves tumbled and kicked across the grass, sticking to trees or headstones before a breeze pushed them away and further off. It seemed you were the only person visiting a loved one at the moment, you wished someone accompanied you, but you liked being with May by yourself.

“Oh, uh, school. Probably want to know about school. I- I- I think I’m gonna take a gap year. Process and readjust to everything and I know if I was doing school I wouldn’t give my all and I don’t want to let you down. Plus, I need money and so I’ll probably need to work a few jobs- wanna help Happy with bills so he doesn’t feel stuck with me.”

A puff of air left your lips as you rubbed your arms up and down your biceps to get a good warmth back into your bones so you could stay longer. With a lick to your lips and a furrow to your brow, you hesitantly spoke a thought that’s been sitting on your tongue for a while, only feeling brave to speak them towards May.

“Ever since you- since you left… something has felt… off. I- I don’t even know what feels off, just that I’m missing something- someone in my life. But I don’t have anyone else. Mom and dad were gone too soon for me to remember their faces, Ben passed away a few years ago and then all I had was you. May... you’ve been my mom, you are my mom. And- and when the blip happened and we came back, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Feeling like you were gone for only a minute but then people are telling you that it’s been five years and half the population turned to dust… but you came back and I felt safe again. And we got back into some normal groove again. And then hearing that you got into an accident and were killed-” your throat started to choke with restrained tears, “I’ve never been more scared in my whole life.”

You let a cry free before pulling yourself back in, wanting to continue your rant, “but, what I’m trying to get at… something feels out of place. I feel like someone is missing from the giant picture, memories feel like they’ve been edited- cutting out that person from our life, my life. Memories with MJ and Ned feel weird, and memories with Happy feel weird as well. Like trying to think about how the two of you met… something is burned away. I- I don’t know, probably just trying to find something to focus on.”

Your eyes met the dark stone, the words May Parker engraved with her date of birth and death. Your shoulders sagged, you were just talking to air about a nagging thought. Should probably look into getting therapy.

“I should start heading back, Happy’s probably worried about me.” You dusted your jacket and pants clean of any grass, might have a few wet spots soaking the fabric.

You stuffed your hands into the jacket pockets and just stood, not making an effort to leave just yet. There was a crunching of leaves that soon filled the quiet and you didn’t think anything of it, it could have been another visitor or Happy who came to visit and take you home, which happened a few times already. But when you looked in your periphery, it wasn’t someone at another grave and it wasn’t Happy. It was a boy.

Out of curiosity, you turned your head enough to get a proper look at the new arrival. You eyed him from head to toe, never seeing him around before. He looked to be about your age, just a teenager. A beanie covered his head, he wore a blue puffer jacket with a few stripes at the top with simple jeans and sneakers, nothing standing out. But there was just something about him…

“How did you know May?” The mystery boy spoke. It took you off guard, “huh?” Was all that came out. He cleared his throat and jerked his chin, again, “how- uh- how did you know May?” He turned to you before turning away.

“Oh, she- she was my aunt. Well, my mom really. Lived with her when I was young.” You stopped there and it was silent. You counted to five before asking, “how did you know her? If I may ask?” Your manners popping in.

The boy was quiet, eyes set on her name. He sniffled then wet his lips, “feast. I knew her from feast. She was- she was nice, always kind to everyone. She was like the mother I never had. I’m glad you had her as family.” His voice cracked on the word family, something you noted but didn’t push for further.

“Yeah. She was always looking out for the little guys.” A smile to your lips. “Was it just the two of you?” The boy asked then backed tracked, “only if you feel comfortable saying. Sorry, it just- it just slipped.”

You looked at the boy. He wasn’t fidgeting, but you could tell from his eyes that he was nervous about something. Your eyes just wandered over him, sure it may seem rude but you couldn’t help it. It was like a magnet was pulling you and you couldn’t resist the hold it had on you. You thought about lying to this stranger, but you didn’t. “Yeah. Well, it wasn’t always just the two of us. She had a husband, his name was Ben, and he’s buried in his home state. But he got shot during a robbery about… a decade ago… blip time difference is weird.” You mumbled off, realizing he died five years ago for you but with your dusting, that added an extra five. The boy agreed with a light chuckle, it warmed you.

“What about you? Any family still with you?” Bouncing back on his question.

His eyes drooped a slight frown on his face, “uh…no. No family, just me.” His eyes caught yours before, once again, looking away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Oh! No, it’s- it’s fine. I was asking the questions first anyway.”

You rolled your lips as you swayed on your feet. Neither of you decided to speak, just stood beside each other as you stared at the headstone and listened to the leaves falling. You wanted to look at the boy again but withheld yourself from doing so.

“I should- I should head home. But it was nice to meet you…” you trailed off hoping he’ll present his name. “Peter… Peter Parker.” He held a smile at the last name.

“Huh, funny coincidence. I’m (Y/n), Parker obviously.” You bid Peter a smile goodbye and turned your back to make your walk to the subway.

“Hey! Uh (Y/n)!” You heard the shouts and the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he hurried to catch up with you. You stopped your steps and looked at Peter as he stopped a few steps away.

“Do you… do you take the subway?” “Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I walk you? I just- I would just feel a lot better knowing you made it safely plus I think May would… sorry- sorry. Only if you want, of course, I mean you just met me and-“

You stepped closer and touched his arm, “hey, it’s fine. I would like the company. Plus, it’s just the subway, you’re not walking me to the front door.” You shrugged at the end before nodding your head to the iron gates.

The two of you traveled down the busy and packed streets of New York. Shifting and turning your bodies so you didn’t bump into anyone, especially someone who wasn’t in the right mood that day. The walking was quiet at first, two strangers who just met and didn’t know what boundaries were already drawn. You kept making glances at Peter beside you before looking away, at the sky or the buildings around you.

“Are you in school?” Peter was the first to ask, once again. You were thankful he took the first steps.

“Oh, well I’m eighteen so I’m about to graduate high school. And I was planning to go to college, out of state or in state, not sure. But after May… I’m taking a gap year. Want to get my bearings first before I focus back on school… How’s your academic future?” You eyed him as he watched you talk.

“Uh, well I’m eighteen as well. And something happened during the school year so I kinda have to start senior year over again. I was planning to go to MIT for college, but that’ll just have to wait.” He scratched his nose before stuffing his hand back into his jacket pocket.

“Another coincidence. Two of my friends are going.” You saw the smile Peter tried to hide from your comment.

“Do you have a job, Mr. Parker?” Already giving joking nicknames.

You didn’t notice the stiffness to his shoulders or the sadness that glazed over his eyes before stuttering, “uh, I’ve applied to a- a few different jobs. Kinda hard- not a high school graduate so my options are limited. Gotta look for the desperate places.”

“But those are kinda sketchy. Not the safest.”

His attention was on you, “yeah, well, I can handle myself.” He nudged your arm and pulled a smile from you as you shook your head. “What about you? Any sketchy jobs?”

“Not sketchy, just boring and quiet. I work at a small café with my friend. An easy job since I have anxiety.” You keep your answers vague with enough detail.

Silence came back around. Cars honking and people talking to each other or over the phone. Couples holding hands or looped around each other.

“Anyone special in your life?” Was your first question to come to mind.

You weren’t sure if the flush was due to the low temperature or the abrupt question towards Peter, who’s still a stranger, about if he was seeing someone.

“No, no. I- I had someone, but she left me. For the best, I think.”

“Why is that? Secretly with the mob or something?”

He laughed, “Nah, nothing like that. Just… I'm broken and a mess. Don’t want her dealing with… all that.” He made a circling hand gesture. You just hummed.

You weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings so you didn’t see the group of kids running and pushing into everyone coming your way. So with a tight hold on your bicep and a yank, you yelped and looked around. Peter pulled you behind him and you followed his eyes as you watched the kids pass as they shouted and yelled.

“Stupid kids.” You muttered before continuing your walk. “Thank you, for pulling me.” “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You were only a block or two away from a station.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Anyone special?” He had a playful tone to his words. You just shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I stick more to the shadows anyway, used to get bullied, so I keep my head down and mouth closed,” you looked to see if he was listening, and he was, “also, I’m kinda a hopeless romantic. Romance books, love songs; especially Taylor Swift's love songs, and a few rom-coms. Anyway, what I’m saying is that, no. No one special, probably not for a while. But maybe that’s okay, maybe I’ll find ‘the one’ when it’s time.”

Peter didn’t respond to your words. You smacked a hand over your face.

“What? What’s-“ “I just spilled my random thoughts to you, who’s still a stranger.”

You pulled your hand away and ran your fingers through your hair before moving it to your pocket for warmth. You looked at Peter and you were just full-on staring, eyes roving over his side profile or his face if he looked your way before facing forward. A tilt of your head came up.

“You know… maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.” You kept looking at Peter. “What wasn’t?” His eyes were on his feet.

“Meeting each other.” And you looked away just as Peter almost tried over his feet even as he watched every step. You kept walking, not aware of the cogs turning in Peter’s mind as he processed your words.

“What- What do you mean? How isn’t this a coincidence? I think it was just lucky timing.”

You threw a hand out as you talked, “What I mean is… maybe May sent you this way. Two people she knew and cared about, both lonely and without a family around. Plus come on, your last name is Parker. That's just crazy. I don’t know, just- it’s just crazy!”

You smiled at the boy as you crossed the street and walked down the crowded and smelly stairs leading to the subway. You checked to see if Peter was still with you and when you saw he was pushed back by a few people, you moved to the side and waited for him to meet your side. You flashed a smile when he reappeared and you both continued on your walk toward the entrances. You checked to see if any cops were around and seeing none you hopped over the spinning entrance, Peter a second behind.

“What train do you take?” “A train, you?” “F for me.”

You thought this meant that the two of you would split up, but Peter walked with you and stayed by your side as you waited for your train to arrive. You checked your pockets to make sure you had your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones, along with your taser and pepper spray that Happy bought for you. You texted Happy that you were waiting for your train and should be home within the hour.

After about thirty-five minutes you heard the screeching of wheels on tracks and saw the lights glow into the station. You turned to Peter with a smile, “well, looks like my ride's here.” He nodded at your words and he opened his mouth and then closed it. You stayed back seeing if he’ll say the words on his mind.

As the train got closer and he didn’t say anything you decided to be the first to speak. “Would it be okay if I get your number? I- I know we just met, but… you seem like a good friend.” You cringed a bit, it was almost like a terrible pickup line. And you weren’t hitting on him, it just felt gross to even think that.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love to have a friend.” Peter stopped your worrying thoughts. You passed him your phone and then he passed it back before pulling his out and showing a text on his home screen.

You started towards the open doors and passed the rushing people and with a quick turn, you called out to Peter and he looked your way waiting to hear what you needed to say before you let the subway whisks you away.

“Stop by feast when you can. We can always use the extra hands and May would be thankful.” And before you got any reply you walked further into the metal tub and took a seat, sticking an earbud in and pressing play on an album you’ve had on repeat.

Already planning to visit May tomorrow after your morning shift to talk about your new friend. And Peter would keep watch from a distance and when you left he would speak with May quietly. Promising her that he’ll keep you safe and be your friend, maybe not your brother never again, only in his mind.

…

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deceitfuldevil · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm so excited for your Sleepover writing and was wondering if I could request the fluff prompt “Your cheeks are really soft.” . . . “Stop squishing them!” with the loml Pietro maximoff (but like- reader squishing pietros cheeks yk) (STOP THAT SOUNDS SO DIRTY BAHAHAHA)

Not that there's a need to title this but I'm giving this one a title anyways.

Freshly Shaven

Harassing Pietro was just about your favorite downtime activity at the avengers compound, I mean how could you not love annoying him when he just made it so easy.

Like today.

You were sprawled out on the couch waiting for the day to get less dull, and then your favorite person walked in. Pietro was patting down his jaw with a towel, tossing it over his shoulder and leaving you to gasp in awe at the sight.

"No." Pietro said with a wavering tone, but you sat up and turned around on the couch with a wide mischievous smile. "No no no." he repeated himself.

"You shaved!" you nearly shouted, and Pietro quickly stepped forward to clasp his hand over your mouth to hush you. Flashing his icy blue eyes at you as if so ask "are you going to be quiet?" and a moment later, unclasped his hand from over your mouth.

"You shaved." you said in a tone barely above a whisper now. Silently reaching your hands up to feel his cheeks, and Pietro only noticed right before your palms came in contact with his skin; leaving him no time to protest.

You let out a soft and quiet gasp as you ran your fingers over his clean, smooth cheeks. "Your cheeks are really soft." you said, pinching and poking at them a bit.

"Ah, stop squishing them!" Pietro said with an annoyed tone, bringing his hands up to push yours away. Grasping your small hands in his much longer ones as he lowered your hands away from his face, you went silent as soon as his hands came in contact with yours. Tension building in your check as Pietro still maintained a upbeat and unaware attitude.

"How would you like it if I did it to you huh?" Pietro said with a light chuckle, only igniting a fire inside of you as he took one hand and firmly grasped your jaw and squished your cheeks. Was it such a crime that a small whimper fell from your lips because of his actions?

"Oh, I see." Pietro said with a dark grin. "Maybe I do know a way to keep you quiet..." he said lifting your jaw up so you were looking at him, leaning in slowly. "Listen dragâ, I think I already know the answer to this but, can I kiss you?"

At a loss for words, you nodded frantically. Prompting Pietro to smile wide and for the first time, press his soft lips to yours.

Ironically enough, his cheeks feel softer against yours than they did in your hands.

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fanfic-scribbles · 4 months

Text

Steeb

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Working in a coffee shop, you have heard and seen all manner of names and spellings thereof, and you’re only human– mistakes happen.

So why’s this guy gotta be such a dick about it?

Quick facts: Friendship – Steve & Reader – Nondescript Reader

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 4218

A/N: Back on my coffee shop bullshit because the idea made me laugh :)

You don’t mean to do it.

It’s been a long day, you’re overworked, and so when you hear ‘Steeb,’ (you’re certain you heard it exactly like that), you write it down to the best of your ability and go on with making the drink. You’ve heard plenty of unique names during your tenure working behind the counter of a coffee shop, and been subjected to every possible way to spell even the most common ones, so you don’t even bat an eye. You simply finish making the drink, call out the name as you set it on the counter, and immediately turn to the next to keep the line moving.

After a few minutes the rush has died and the cup is still there, and a tall blond man hovers around, staring at it uncertainly. Starting to fill with dread, you go repeat the drink order in the hopes that he’ll recognize it.

“Oh, yes; that is me…” He frowns at the cup, holds it up, and squints at it some more. He looks as tired as you feel, but instead of replenishing his energy with some sugar and caffeine, he frowns at you and says, in a terse, clipped tone, “‘Steeb?’ Really?”

It has been a long fucking day and you feel a rush of anger blow through you before you tamp it down, put on the smile that you hope doesn’t look as lined with knives as it feels, and say, “I am very, very sorry sir; I must have misheard your name. Please enjoy your drink.”

He waits, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but thankfully he just takes his drink and goes.

Good riddance.

A few days later you’re wiping down behind the counter after a long rush when he comes in again. He sees you, hesitates, and therefore so do you– but he approaches with a forced smile and you try to relax. He’s not anywhere near the top ten worst customers you’ve ever had to deal with; so what if he got a little snippy when you fucked up his name. Maybe he was having a bad day too. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, and it’s ‘Steeeeeeve.’ ‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve.’”

Nope. Still an asshole. The way he says it is so much like explaining his name to a small child with next to no verbal skills that you nearly grip the cup in your hand to destruction while he watches you. Through great restraint, (and the truly unfortunate need to keep paying for groceries and shelter), you plaster on a smile. “Of course,” you say placidly. His brow furrows in…concern? You wait until you turn away to roll your eyes. You’re not going to mess with food; what kind of monster does he think you are? You prepare him his drinks– but before that you write down his name. Exactly as he said it.

‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve’ wraps at least halfway around the cup and given that he’s the only one waiting you call his name out likewise. It’s petty, and it’s definitely petty the way you take enjoyment in his annoyance as he picks up the cup and follows all the letters.

“Did I do something?” he asks.

Aside from treat me like a fucking toddler? But you can’t say that. Stupid food. Stupid rent. “Of course not sir,” you say flatly. Sometimes you can skate by pissing people off if you seem unaffected enough– some people really do believe you’re that stupid. “I’m just trying to get your name right. Exactly as you say it.”

It doesn’t seem to work on him. However, the way it doesn’t work on him means he…snorts, the corners of his lips turn briefly up, and he walks away with his drinks without lodging a complaint.

…Maybe he’s not a total asshole after all.

The next time he shows up, after ordering, he stares at you for a moment and then brings out his debit card and shows you the name printed on it.

At this point you do know his name (it’s not like ‘Steve’ is actually the hardest name to remember for someone who left such a negative impression on you, even if that impression was a bit of a knee-jerk) but he looks a little amused and wary, like he’s not sure how you’re going to mangle it this time.

You’re not really sure what his deal is, but you know a challenge when you see it. Still, fucking up his name on purpose feels like it violates the spirit of…whatever this thing is. However…

It’s a little slow, so you take a moment to write on the cup, trying to perfectly mimic the print of his name on the card. When his drinks are done you call out the order instead of his name, though you face the writing on the cup towards him. He walks up, his eyes zero in, and he…cracks a smile. A real smile, if a bit wobbly.

He shakes his head as you restock some cups, nods his thanks, and leaves.

You’re probably done now, but that’s a good note to leave it on, you think.

He comes in another time with two people– a reserved woman and a man with a bright smile. They’re both friendly and the new guy is so personable he makes you smile even after a long night of little sleep. Steve seems happy enough today and doesn’t make a fuss about his name, although the both of them watch you for a reaction as though he’s told them. They seem amused, but they all shuffle off after they pay.

Well. You would hate to disappoint.

Natasha and Sam get nice cursive. ‘Sam and Natasha’s Friend’ gets flat print.

Steve sighs heavily, Sam laughs, and Natasha grins wickedly. More customers come in and you forget about them except as a nice note on an otherwise unremarkable day.

You are more than willing to admit Steve is not as much a jerk as he first seemed to be. He must have been having a few bad days himself, to be so snippy, and hey, maybe names were a sore subject with him as they could be with so many others. Trying your best doesn’t mean you’re exempt from being accidentally hurtful. Being as short on patience as you were, (unfortunately, often are these days), you didn’t exactly act as well as maybe you should have either.

So when he comes in and looks a little down, you treat him with a bit more care. He orders something warm and, in your opinion, comforting. When you ask him if he wants whipped cream he shrugs, and before you can say anything else, he says his name in a very quiet voice.

When he walks away you switch out the cup for another size up, break out a special pen, write his name carefully, and go about making the best damn drink you can. The whipped cream towers on the top, you dig out some of the colorful sprinkles left over from a recent seasonal promotion, and you barely put the drink down in the pick-up window before he’s there. He smiles slightly when he sees it (that whipped cream tower is a work of art if you do say so yourself) and he carefully turns the cup around, looking for his name. When he goes a full circle he squints and looks at you.

“Keep looking,” you say and go back to the register.

He stays in the shop to drink it and tries to find his name for a bit before he gives up and gets through the whipped cream and a good portion of the drink before he’s able to hold it up and try again. He glances back at you a few times, as if to ask if you really wrote it. You nod, and he gets back to hunting. When the drink is nearly done he finally finds it– a tiny, careful scrawl just outside the edge of the artwork near the bottom of the cup. When he grins at you, you nod in approval, and he leaves in a better mood than he came in.

That’s the best outcome you can ask for, really.

He comes in at least once a week, most of the time, and you try to do little variations on each visit. The rainbow one with your new huge multi-colored pen goes over well. The attempt at calligraphy makes him smile. Once when you’re really rushed you scratch it out like a simple metal band logo. That gets a little laugh.

One day you’re out of ideas, and out of patience. Every customer is grating, and then there’s…

“How hard is it to remember Bill?” the man snaps.

“I’m sorry sir,” you say and try not to show how tired you are. You’re actually not responsible for this one, but you’re not going to throw your co-worker under the bus. Also, she wrote down ‘Will,’ and you’re having a hard time getting worked up over one letter that’s…basically the same name. But names are sensitive, and you’re really actually not trying to be an asshole. You wish other people knew that. “We’ll do better next time.”

He scoffs and opens his mouth, but there’s someone looming behind him that makes him turn. In a good flash of irony, Steve is the one staring down at him. Not threatening though– his face is more of a ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ frown and it is frighteningly effective. You haven’t even done anything wrong and suddenly you’re questioning your life choices.

Bill takes his coffee and leaves. Steve looks at you and asks, “Was I that bad?”

You shake your head. “I think we were both having a bad day,” you say and start wiping down the counter. Slowly, so you can take a moment for yourself. You don’t get many of those. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been told my ‘disappointed’ face can make almost anyone rethink what they’re doing,” he says.

You smile. “I started rethinking my life, and I wasn’t even the target,” you say and his smile is like a reward. “I’ll…try and find your drink,” you say and go to get to work. But there is no drink waiting and with some dread you come back to ask him what he ordered, because he is a good guy and damn it you’re going to fix this.

But he’s gone, and there’s a folded piece of paper on the counter that you grab and open.

“No coffee today,” reads the note that is signed “Steeb” and you roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

“PS: Check the back”

You do, and find a little drawing of a coffee cup with your name scrawled in as part of the design. Spelled right of course. You’re not sure if that’s a passive aggressive dig, but honestly, you’ve had way worse.

You fold up the paper and put it away.

The next time Steve comes in it’s at a quiet part of the day, and he hands you a paper and presses a finger to his lips. You stare a bit too long at that but unfold the paper. Your name is decorated with cute cartoon flowers, and what follows is his order.

You roll your eyes but ring him up, and get to work.

The cup gets decorated with a quick hangman’s game, with some of the letters missing from his name and nearly a complete stick figure with several wrong letters to accompany the cartoon execution. (Naturally, ‘b’ is one of them.)

When Steve sees it…well, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile like that. “I’m going to feel bad throwing this one away,” he says, admiring it.

“Take a picture. Doesn’t leak as much,” you say, but his eyes light up and he actually does. “I was joking,” you say, a hand on your face.

“It was a good idea.” His grin is devious. “And embarrassed is a good look on you.”

“Uh huh,” you say and put your hand down. “Didn’t get enough of it your first time around?”

“This one’s better,” he says, taking your comment with the humor you intended.

“Right. Sure.” You start wiping up an invisible spot behind the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“I always do,” he says and takes a long drink before he leaves.

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you smile the rest of your shift.

By now you’re well aware that ‘Steeb’ is Steve, is Steve Rogers, is Captain America, is…yeah. That guy. And you’re actually pretty relieved that it took you a while to figure it out. If you’d known from the start, your initial judgement probably would have been even harsher, and now you know he’s definitely not an ass.

This other guy though…

He looks (and acts) like a Jersey frat boy graduated to a tech bro and he’s been verbally harassing Steve for several minutes now, emboldened by his pack of cronies and the fact that Steve is just stoically taking it. Even the handful of people watching the proceedings are frowning or otherwise giving the douchebag dirty looks, but they seem to be following Steve’s lead and leaving well enough alone. Steve is sitting with his friends Sam (Falcon, he winked at you once holy shit) and Natasha (freaking Black Widow) and while Sam has attempted to diffuse the situation, Natasha has been quietly watching with light but focused interest that, if the guy was smart, should have made him crawl away with a thousand apologies by now.

Alas, he is a moron, and continues mouthing off.

Your manager finishes his phone call and turns the rest of his divided attention to focus on the…Situation. He’s frowning deep, but he just sighs. “He’s not doing anything I can kick him out for,” he grumbles.

“Hmm.” You look at the drink in your hand, and do a little double-take at the name before you realize you just misread it. However, that gives you an idea. “Hey. Your shift is almost through and you haven't taken a break yet.”

He looks at you suspiciously. Then he just looks tired as he takes off his apron. “Please, please don’t let them make me fire you.”

You flit one hand at him while you go to work with the other. “Written up maybe, but who gives a shit. Now go away; plausible deniability won’t manufacture itself.”

He rolls his eyes but he goes. You whip up the obnoxious group’s drinks, paying special attention to Guido Musk’s and making it as…pretty as possible.

When you’re done you put the drinks up, clear your throat, and in your best service-with-a-smile voice, call out, “Grunt!”

The talking stills, and you go on to rattle off his drink specifications, topping it all off with, “…and extra whip, for Grunt!”

He stalks over, scowling, and you brace yourself behind a docile smile as he hisses, “It’s Grant!”

You’d bet the nickel he tossed in the tip jar that that’s not actually his name, but you play along. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” you say and snatch the drink to give his name an exaggerated read-over. Your manager has just messy enough writing that the ‘a’ doesn’t quite close, so your alibi is solid. “Oh, I see, you’re completely right! I’m sorry, I misread it; that’s my bad,” you say and hand it over to him.

He's still glaring. “Who the hell gets called ‘Grunt?’”

“Sir, I’ve written cups for ‘Batman’ and ‘Spock.’” You shrug. “I don’t judge; however someone knows their order is fine.” You smile brightly at him. “Please enjoy your drink!” You then call out the rest of his friends’ orders, and go to the register to help a serendipitously-timed new customer. He pouts and hovers a little longer, but Steve is visibly more relaxed, smirking into his cup as his friends smile and stand down, and even the people who had been watching are now looking at Grant and whispering or laughing with their tablemates. So when one friend claps his shoulder and they all start to leave, he follows.

“Bye Grunt!” Sam calls out cheerfully as he passes through the door, and you duck your head behind the espresso machine as half the store laughs out loud. That is definitely going to get you a complaint, but it’s hard to be too mad about it. Once you’re composed enough not to crack you lift your head, but thankfully Grant is gone. You resolve to do everything in your power to avoid answering the phone today. …Even more than usual.

Later, it’s near close and Steve and his friends are among some of the last to leave. But he stops by the counter. “Thanks,” he says.

“For what?” you say with as much innocence as you can muster. Sam snorts and Natasha rolls her eyes, but Steve smiles. You drop the act and shrug your shoulder. “For the record,” you say, “–there is a difference between an accident, and being petty.”

Steve’s smile shifts more to one side. “Oh, I think I get it by now.” He then grins and says, “I guess it’s a good thing I never tried to use my middle name.”

You snort and shake your head. Natasha tilts hers. “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” she asks casually.

The mood drops a little. Sure, you won’t lose your job, but getting called in front of the manager –even the nice one– sucks. You shrug again, trying to keep it relaxed. “He left too fast to complain, but he might call tomorrow. We’ll see.” Steve and Sam frown deeply, like they hadn’t thought of that, and despite everything it makes you smile a little. “Relax; we’re perpetually understaffed. I’ll just get written up. It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Steve says and looks at you with a very earnest expression that almost brings you up short. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you say, and wince at the thought of him going up the chain and making more of a mess. You shake your head definitively. “Trust me, it’s fine. I misread a name. Happens all the time.” You give Steve a look with raised eyebrows. “Happens almost as much as mishearing a customer’s name.”

He blushes. Blushes. But before he can say anything else, Natasha hooks her arm in his, says, “Have a good night,” and leaves with him in hand and Sam following bemusedly behind.

You look around the dirty shop and sigh. Back to work.

After a week Grant-Grunt hasn’t come back, hasn’t called, and you’re just starting to relax when you see him walking past the window just outside. He lifts his head, you freeze, braced for the confrontation, but his eyes widen and he…bolts. Literally, actually, runs.

You blink, and suddenly jolt when one of the customers taking an easy morning is suddenly right at the counter. “Sorry; I didn’t see y–”

It’s Natasha. Smiling patiently as she holds her nearly-empty cup up for a refill. Your mouth works ineffectively to ask her how and when, but reflexively you take the cup, and then immediately check it. That’s her name, in your handwriting. You take a moment to reboot. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” she replies with mild amusement. “Has he made a complaint?”

You shake your head. “Haven't heard a word.”

“Good.” Her smile grows. It’s sort of terrifying. And really hot. “The dark roast is very good today. May I have a refill?”

“Yes ma’am,” you say and immediately go to give her a whole new cup. You resolve to give her anything she asks for. And spell her name right. Every time.

You’re waiting for a sandwich you ordered in a busy shop when someone big bumps into you. As you’re starting to turn it is a familiar voice that starts apologizing profusely with, “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Steve stops when you face him. He actually even squints a little, which makes you laugh. “Am I really that strange looking without an apron?”

He smiles. “I’ve never seen you outside of work.”

“Town is smaller than I thought,” you say and both of you just…stand there for a few seconds.

Then your number is called, and you go to get your sandwich. You come back to where Steve is, just because…well, you don’t know why. He was just surprised to see you outside of work. There’s no reason he would still want to see you. But here you are.

“Apparently I’m not that far behind you,” he says and glances around. “Are you…staying to eat?”

You bob your head, for lack of anything else to do. “I was planning on it.”

“Do you want to share a table?” he says. “It’s pretty busy in here.”

Something in you flips. “That’d be great.”

He smiles. “Yeah?” He then looks around, and points out a table in the corner. “How about there?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you say and go to claim the space. He comes over maybe just a minute later, and as you’re unwrapping your food, you admit, “I sort of wish we could get away with assigning numbers.”

“I don’t know. I’m really partial to the names,” Steve says and gives you a devious little smile over his sandwich.

“Yeah, now you are,” you say, maybe overly teasing just to make sure he gets it. Now’s a good time for a sincere apology, and though part of you rails against it for an honest mistake, you manage to quash it down and say, “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but just to put it out there– I am sorry for screwing up your name that first time. The shop gets loud and I have seen a lot of names, and even the ‘usual’ ones sometimes get spelled differently. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

He ducks his head and quickly finishes the bite he’s just taken. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed malice; I just…” He looks away. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to explain, but…maybe he wants to. He looks at you again. “People get weird, sometimes, when they see me,” he says with a slight flush of embarrassment. “And it’s all ‘Cap’ this and ‘Cap’ that, so I…I just like hearing my name, you know?”

You nod. “Names are important,” you say and take a bite. He smiles slightly at your easy acceptance, and you both settle in for a nice lunch, and some good company.

It has been a good week, relatively, and the next time he shows up at the shop you're all set, writing ‘Steeb’ with some stars and quickly poorly drawn flags around it, but your new co-worker appears suddenly and swoops in just as you finish with the pen, spiriting the cup away and giving Steve a brilliant smile as she starts making his drink. Steve blinks, and since she can’t see your face from this angle, you give him a look begging him to put you out of your misery.

He smiles sympathetically, dumps a bigger tip in the jar, and moves away. You go pick up the forgotten pastry your co-worker had been getting for another customer, slip it in the wrapper, hand it over, and go to await your reaction just as she finishes cleaning the cup. She instinctively looks at the name as she starts to make the call, then stops suddenly and stares at you like you’re crazy. You gesture at the cup. “He’ll understand. Trust me.”

She shakes her head, then smiles brightly at Steve and chirps, “Your drink’s ready, Cap!”

You roll your eyes as Steve comes to the pick-up with a polite smile that’s definitely tinged with disappointment. But then he turns the cup to see his name, smiles a little more for real, and, despite the expression not budging an inch, tries to scowl at you. “A repeat already?” he asks with a likewise lame attempt at chiding.

“A callback,” you correct. “It’s sweet.”

“If you say so,” he says and picks up his drink. “I hope for a little more creativity next time.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you say. You’ve been saving the katakana for a special occasion, but if he insists. Then again maybe the ‘b’ sound would be too repetitive so soon? Perhaps it’s time to practice the comic sans idea. You’ll think more about it, later. “Have a nice day, Steve.”

His real smile is so nice. “You too,” he says, with a gentle addition of your name, merely tilts his head respectfully at your co-worker, and leaves.

Said co-worker gapes. You reach around her for a rag and go to clean up some of the milk she spilled since you already know she won’t do it herself. “You have an in-joke with Captain America?” she asks, following along.

“No,” you say. “I have an in-joke with Steve.”

She blinks. “What’s the difference?” She then gets called over by the manager, huffs a put-upon sigh, and toddles off. You shrug. She probably wouldn’t get it anyway. But that’s okay. Steve does, and that’s all that matters.

#steve rogers & reader #mcu reader insert #captain america reader insert #fluff

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writing-house-of-m · 4 months

Text

Cold hands, Warm hearts

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Natasha warms you up on a cold day with an impromptu date

A/N: This is for @esouliie ! You can all thank her for this because I don't know when I would have gotten something new finished. This was also the result of there being way too many 'missing Natasha hours' recently (I've also been having a lot of 'missing Wanda hours' too and have re-watched WandaVision because of it). But, everyone... this fic... is so freaking cute and I hope you all think so too. Happy reading and let me know who you think!

"Hey," you hear a familiar rasp from over your shoulder.

You didn't think you would hear from her so soon. She told you she was going to be busy, which is code for ‘away on a mission’, so have kept yourself occupied for the last few weeks trying not to think of the red head. Which is easier said than done.

Every morning when you wake up disappointment fills you not seeing her there. Your intertwined lives are now routine.

It is hard to adjust when she is away, especially when it is for weeks and what feels like no end in sight. On top of that, with missions like these, there is no communication between you to fill the Natasha shaped hole in your life.

Sometimes you wonder if it would be easier to be involved with someone else, anyone else for that matter, but the thought is gone as quick as it comes because no one could ever replace the way she makes you feel.

The first week of her absence you filled your free time as much as you could by catching up with friends and family. You constantly found yourself avoiding the question about why you have been so distant recently. It was the one thing Natasha requested from you - not telling anyone about your relationship with her - to, in her words ‘keep you safe'.

You still remember the way she looked at you. It was the first time you could see past the facade she held, seeing the worry linger in her eyes for a split second. The intensity of her gaze and her hesitance was a strange thing to witness. When you nodded your head in agreement her smile was soft, almost relieved. In that moment you realized you would agree to anything she asked just to see that vulnerable side again. You felt privileged.

This second and third week have been much slower, a lot of your time has been spent in the four walls of your apartment because of last minute canceled plans and much needed maintenance needed around your home.

So you decide today, cold be damned, you will be taking a walk through your local park. You shared this little wonder of a place with Natasha in your fourth month of being together, happy to be able to reveal a bit more of you and your life.

It is a public place, more people pass by here than in the street where you live. But you got to show Natasha all the overlooked secrets; little winding paths that lead to flower gardens, a pond hidden behind some bushes and the gargoyles you can see from one spot when standing in a specific angle by a monument in the center. You even pointed out some regulars you see because of all your time here. From the confined elderly wanting a bit of liberation from their mundane lives to daring children trying to climb the tallest tree they can find.

A breeze rushes past, the cold chilling you to your bones and you inwardly curse at yourself. Trust you to have picked the coldest day for some freedom. Initially, the brisk air was making you regret your decision, that was until the sun came out. It didn't do a whole lot against the freezing temperature, but it did look pretty against the frost and ice distracting you from the chilly weather.

The way the sun's rays shine between the branches that stretched out over your head reminded you of spring time and how much you couldn’t wait for the season to change.

Just as you were about to get out from the clearing for some much needed sunlight and heat on your face, that’s when you heard Natasha.

It has been so long you think you are hearing things, that is until you turn your head and see her. The long army green coat she is wearing almost makes her look taller.

Almost.

Strands of red hair peek out from the beanie Natasha is wearing, a braid is tucked into her pulled up collar and she has a soft smile on her face. One you have noticed she reserves for you.

It takes everything in you to not run over and jump into her arms, to press your nose into her neck to get a smell of the home you have been craving.

Big scenes are not her thing, you’ve learnt.

Instead your eyes drop to her gloved hands holding two hot drinks which takes you out of your stupor and smiling brighter in return. You almost want to ask how she knew where you were but then remember her profession.

"You look cold," there is a playfulness to Natasha’s voice matching her smirk.

Regardless of how wrapped up you are, you know your scarf hasn't done much to stop your face from getting cold, it must be covered in a light blush.

"I could say the same about you," you raise an eyebrow with your own smirk. A noticeable pink tint is adorning her cheeks and nose from the cold bite of the air. You wonder how long she has been trailing you.

Natasha's smile widens as closes in and hands you one of the cups. You take off your gloves, shoving them into your pocket to allow the heat to bring back the feeling in your frozen hands as you bring it to your nose to take a whiff. Your favorite, of course it is.

She leans in and pecks you on the lips, her still warm palm from the drink sinks into your cheek making you forget about the kiss of the sun you were walking towards. Natasha disappoints you with how short her lips are on yours, you were hoping for something that was more than just a split second considering how long it has been.

Although Natasha pulls back it is only by an inch as she remains close to ask, "Where are you going?"

Her voice is low and her warm breath is a nice contrast to the icy wind.

Your eyes flutter close as you revel in her presence and soak up the warmth she brings. Brushing your nose against hers you reply, "Wherever my feet take me," you smile and open your eyes to the green ones you selfishly wish to keep to yourself. "I'm glad I have some company now," you whisper.

"I hope you weren't expecting anyone else," Natasha says with a twitch of an eyebrow.

You shake your head. "Definitely not," you say, pressing a small kiss to her lips, one that lasts longer than the mediocre one she gave you. "I missed you."

You like seeing her like this. Carefree. Soft. Unguarded.

Well as unguarded as can be, it was something you picked up in your first few months of spending time together - Natasha is always alert. The way her eyes flint around every so often, looking around to quickly survey her surroundings, always cautious of any lingering threats. To the untrained eye it looks like she is taking in the scenery, but you know after knowing her for as long as you have.

Over time it is a habit you have even picked up from her, making you wonder if there are things she has picked up from you.

Natasha stands by your side allowing you to loop an arm around her waist while you take a sip of your beverage. It leaves a warm trail as it makes its way down your throat. It still isn't as warm as the way Natasha makes you feel though as cheesy as that may sound.

"Thank you for this, I didn't realize how much I needed it," you say, signaling the paper cup.

She smiles at you to acknowledge your gratitude. "You're never one to think ahead, plus I saw you shiver," Natasha remarks.

You scoff, shaking your head, "I did not shiver."

Some children are laughing not too far in front of you which distracts both of your attentions away from your conversation. A large puddle of water has frozen over and seems to be the main source of entertainment for the little gang.

The two of you stop to watch their innocence, a pang of jealousy hits you because of how carefree and innocent they are. Not a single worry showing on their faces in this cruel world.

You have been fortunate to only hear about the atrocities always going on. More so since you started to date Natasha. She doesn't go into detail about her line of work but the faraway look she has on her face sometimes after certain assignments tells you all you need to know. It fills you with pride knowing you are Natasha’s source of domestic normalcy.

One of the snuggly wrapped up boys slips and tries to regain his footing before he falls to the ground making you let out a breath of laughter. The scene is something straight from a cartoon as the boy tries to find balance when trying to stand again while the rest laugh at him. A boy in a puffy gray coat, who is howling with laughter, loses his feet from under him sending him straight to the ground landing on his butt making the rest of them exclaim even louder.

The smile you see in your peripheral vision tells you Natasha is enjoying this too.

"How long had you been watching me before you decided to come over, stalker?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Long enough to see you shiver," Natasha accuses in her husky voice.

You bark out a laugh, "I do not shiver!"

"Yeah, yeah, you keep lying to yourself," Natasha smirks.

You spend long minutes, people watching while sipping on your drinks and basking in this precious stolen time you get to spend with each other.

The children are fewer now, some of them have left with their parents while the rest stay. They have started a game to see who can stay on their feet the longest as they try to knock each other down.

Sometimes you forget Natasha’s past, what little you know of it, and almost ask about her childhood. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking 'What did you get up to as a kid?’

Instead, you face Natasha as she continues to stare on at the scene; her side profile is enough to show her fatigue. You place your empty cup on the wall beside you so you can take her face in your hands.

Natasha takes your lead to turn in your direction allowing you to take in all of her features.

"You look tired," you whisper in concern as your thumb rubs along her cheekbone.

"Gee, thanks(!)" Natasha chuckles at her own sarcasm.

"Nat," you start, ready to reprimand her for not being serious.

"We’ve had some long days. But don’t worry, I'll be off for the holidays,” Natasha replies. “You'll have me for two weeks. That’s enough time for you to get sick of having me around. By the end of it you’re going to want to be rid of me."

"Impossible," you say without thinking then lean in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

Natasha turns her head slightly to meet your lips, sighing when she allows herself a moment of being wrapped up in you.

A buzzing sound makes you stop before you can deepen the kiss any further. You let out a breath of disdain from Natasha’s phone ruining your moment. Natasha smiles at you apologetically, taking the device from her pocket.

While Natasha checks the notification you give her some privacy, picking up both empty cups to discard them.

When you return and meet Natasha's eyes, the sparkle that was there just moments ago has faded as regret takes over. She is being called back.

"Three more days, then you're all mine, Romanoff,” you smile. “And for a whole two weeks!" you exaggerate in hopes to lessen the blow of her having to leave. "How did I get so lucky? I guess I'm being spoiled this season."

You know you succeed when you see the corners of Natasha's lips raise slightly before she holds onto your coat and pulls you in kissing you again.

Her phone buzzes impatiently, interrupting you again .

"I have to go," Natasha says, her warm breath fanning over your face as she rests her forehead against yours. ”But just know, I’m the lucky one here.”

You smile at her confession and revel once more in the warmth she provides before you have to face the harsh cold that comes with the Winter months alone.

Kissing Natasha’s forehead you meet her loving green gaze once more. "Come back to me," you breathe out as light as the breeze chilling you.

"Always," Natasha says, sweetly and just as quiet. Her voice carries the weight of more than the one worded sentence she has spoken.

Taking a breath, Natasha gives you a final peck before she drags herself away from you.

Your arm stretches out as Natasha walks away, your hand lingering in hers for those extra few seconds of comfort. But mostly because you don't want to let her go.

Saying goodbye is always difficult no matter how short the visit.

As you watch her walk away you think about the first time you met the assassin.

Out of all the windows in the city Natasha crashed through yours. Your shock had you frozen in place until she tried to stumble out of your apartment but collapsed from fatigue because of the fight she had just endured.

After getting over the fact an Avenger covered in dirt and blood had ruined your new rug, you used your limited first aid knowledge to nurse her back to health. When she awoke a few hours later, she told you just how crappy of a job you had done.

What got Natasha’s attention was when you quipped back saying you should have let her bleed out to make a quick buck off of all of her equipment to pay for the damages she caused.

When she left a short while later you didn’t think you would ever see her in person again. You were looking forward to being able to tell all the people in your life about the encounter with an actual superhero.

Reality hit you in the gut with the name of ‘Non Disclosure Agreement’ and a clean up crew which you couldn’t be mad about.

Unbeknownst to you, after your first meeting Natasha couldn't stop herself from wanting to see you again. Her mind drifted to the ‘kind’ (your words not hers) stranger who applied sloppy bandages to her arm and stomach. The messy job would have gotten infected if she hadn’t woken up. Natasha caught herself smiling at the memory too often and had to force herself to be present for work.

Life went on and your encounter felt less and less real as each day passed. Until one evening, while in your office building working late, you received a call telling you you were needed on the roof. Skeptical as you were, you obeyed thinking of the promotion you had been working so hard toward.

What you hadn’t expected was a fully healed Black Widow to emerge from the shadows, playfully schooling you to not comply with shady orders received late at night. Then insulting you with how boring your life was and how you should learn to cook for yourself instead of wasting all your money on take-out.

Surprise was an understatement and instead of letting that show, like your mouth wasn’t already slightly hanging open from the shock while she spoke, you decided to play Natasha’s game and call her out for the stalker that she was.

Since then your meetings have been sporadic but it didn’t stop you both from falling for each other. Who knew a year and a half on you would be in a relationship with each other, life would have made more sense if you had stopped talking. But you have defied the odds and are still going strong.

When you make it back to your apartment you find flowers waiting for you on the kitchen counter making you smile. A card attached to them with a message in Natasha’s handwriting that reads ‘3 more days ♡’ makes you feel like your heart is going to burst from emotion.

Needless to say that smile never left your face throughout you making dinner all the way up until the moment you go to bed that night. Natasha somehow always has a habit of making you feel like a giddy teenager.

You couldn’t wait to see her again. The gift you have been wanting to give to her for a few weeks has been hidden under your towels in the kitchen cabinet. You can only hope she doesn't already know about it.

The next time you are together you are going to give her a key to your apartment so that she knows she will always have a place to come back to.

A place she can call home.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff marvel #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow fanfic #black widow imagine #black widow fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu reader insert #self insert fanfiction #fic #cold hands warm hearts tag

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peter-parkers-left-pinky · 1 year

Text

Y/n: I need to dye my hair.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or get another tattoo.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or a new piercing.

Natasha: Why?

Y/n: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

#marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #y/n insert #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers reader insert #incorrect marvel #incorrect mcu #mcu reader insert #wanda maximoff #avengers #bucky barnes #incorrect avengers #incorrect avengers quotes

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year

Text

rom-com moment

peter quill x f!reader prompt: rain theme: smut/fluff (tags beneath the cut)

“You really know how to romance a girl, Quill.”

He snickered against your skin, his breath tickling against the side of your throat, a heated contrast to the icy water soaking your clothes and your hair. His hands clutched hungrily at your sides, trapping you against the wall behind you. He was equally soaked, rain dripping into his eyes as he pulled back to meet your gaze with a familiar cocksure smile.

“I thought this was every girl’s fantasy,” he said, his hands coming up to unzip your jacket. You shivered as the rain and his freezing hands tainted your dress, your own fingers curling in the lapels of his coat. You pulled him closer; his body heat the only combat for the rain. “A big ol’ declaration of love in the rain.”

“This isn’t a declaration, Peter,” you pointed out snidely, fumbling with his belt despite your tone. His fingers curled in your dress, dragging it up over your thighs. The fabric clung to your skin. “This is you trying to get your dick wet.”

He laughed, grasping your thighs and lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands taking hold of his shoulders.

“And if this is supposed to be your way of telling me you love me for the first time, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Gotcha,” he replied, his amusement giving way to the heady growl of desire as you wrapped your hand around his cock. He groaned as you pressed the head of his erection into your cunt. “I’ll save it for later.”

Peter thrust into you in one hard stroke, and you moaned, swallowing down rain before pulling him into a kiss. Even as the meaning of his words dawned on you, your thoughts devolved into the simple, hungry notes of pleasure, and you broke away from his mouth to bring his face back down to your throat.

Quill’s teeth dug into the sensitive skin over your pulse point and your head fell back against the wall. Rain hit your face, water running down your cheeks and you blinked against it as your eyes rolled back.

He fucked you in rough, hurried thrusts, his hands digging into the flesh of your ass possessively. A shiver wracked through you, and you could feel his body trembling with the cold of the rain despite the heat of his body against yours.

When you came, the sound of your moan was drowned out by thunder, and you could have sworn you heard Peter whisper three words against your skin.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @bombardia @bellarkeselection @nix-rose-q @blue-chup @curcuma-yn0t

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cas-backwards-tie · 7 months

Text

Chapter Two: The Deal and A Meal

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

The Missing Title

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Summary: After rounding up the entourage and getting debriefed on the mission, Madripoor and a woman named Selby await. Despite not knowing much about the place, it seems someone has a plan and it’s made clear what part you’ll have to play.

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Insecurity, Sexism, Dubcon, Threats, Violence, Cursing, Illegal Activities, Guns, Attempted Assassinations

A/N: I intended to originally go through all of the second episode within this chapter, but it turned out to be way too long, so I had to cut it short and split it up into two (possibly three knowing what I plan for the next chapter) parts. It'll be fun though, I know it! (aka the 'meal' part of the title might have been previously in reference to a certain someone.) and thank you again to @imamotherfuckingstar-lord for essentially beta’ing for me ❤️

After a stale biscuit offered by the elderly gentleman you've come to learn is named Oeznick, and a glass of water, you'd fallen asleep. The flight passed fairly quickly, and it wasn't until you were an hour outside the drop-off point that a warm and sturdy hand placed itself upon your shoulder. "wecken," an accented voice meets your ears as you stir from your peaceful nap.

"Rise an' shine," Sam's voice calls from off in the distance. Eyes blinking open you follow the calloused fingers up to its owner, surprised to find that it's the Baron who's woken you.

"When you're ready to change, I've placed your outfit in the lavatory," Zemo explains, hand lifting from your shoulder to gesture where the aircraft's restrooms are. Upon righting yourself, you find Sam running his hands down the lapels of his suit. With your half-awake state you're unable to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Hey, I didn't pick this, okay? If you wanna thank anyone, thank the maniac over here- better yet, thank Buck since he's the one who got us into this mess in the first place." Sam turns his argument on his counterpart, the mischievously playful twinkle in his eyes landing on the man still sitting in his seat from earlier. Leg crossed over the other, small notebook open in his lap, Bucky raises his gaze to your friend.

"Yeah, like you wouldn't be doing something just as-- if not even more--dangerous if it weren't for my idea," the soldier retorts.

"So I'm hearing that this maniac is actually perhaps saving you some grace?" Zemo chips in, a smug look upon his face.

"Ha, you wish," Sam's voice bites back as you shake your head in amusement, exiting the cabin.

The lavatory is far more immaculate than you'd anticipated, the sleek shedua door leading into a room bordered with, and a sink cabinet made from the same polished material. There are rolls of towels sitting on a shelf beside the sink. Eyes taking in your groggy features reflected in the back-lit mirror, you don't spot the outfit until your eyes see a pop of color. Dangling from a hanger placed on the hooks at the back of the door is a satin cherry red dress.

With gentle fingers, you run them along the soft fabric. It happens to be one of your favorites, even if you're sure many people enjoy the smooth touch of it. Though you may consider whether your undergarments will work with this outfit--let alone if it'll even fit you--there's no better answer than seeing for yourself. After all, Zemo had said that this was for you. There's no other wardrobe in here, so it's not like you can pretend otherwise. It only takes a second to double-check and make sure you'd locked the doors and there are no cameras or an unfortunate happenstance of a double-sided mirror. With everything in the clear, you quickly undress, partially excited by the thought of trying on such a sexy and luxurious dress.

As you tug it up in place, shoulders supporting the straps, you're careful with it, not wanting to mar or maim it in any way. After all, it's not every day you're handling such expensive things. Initially, you'd been concerned about your undergarments, and while your bra straps are showing, it seems that simply tucking them beneath the draped fabric lining your chest doesn't leave behind a visible trace of the economic brand you own. The only issue is what follows next. Upon zipping up the back as high as you can, you find that the dress is snug against your curves. While that's not a style you usually go for and leaves you feeling somewhat exposed, you don't mind the way it looks on you.

Vision set on the mirror again, you find yourself running your hands down your sides as you take it in. The red material definitely contrasts against your skin, making your features pop in a different way than the more plain clothes you'd previously been adorning. Doing a slow spin, you take it all in; that's when you notice the issue... your panty-line is visible. Not to mention, the dress has a pretty high slit that ends just below the middle of one thigh. This realization causes the faint smile that'd appeared on your lips to turn downward.

Nevertheless, you continue. After all, that's only one hangup; there's plenty more to be done. Luckily, you'd brought some makeup with you. At the time you hadn't been sure why, but now the last-minute item you'd thrown in your duffle has clearly come to use. Though there could be debate on what sort of makeup style would look best in not only your picked outfit, but for whatever part you're playing. Escort? Lover? Arm Candy? Prostitute? You decide for yourself. Going for a classic smokey eye, eyeliner, and red lipstick, you make sure you look every point the part you're to play.

It's then that the final pieces come into play. There'd been a black cardboard box lying on the counter. Inside, you'd found a pair of black high stiletto heels which had a diamond encrusted floral-looking pattern attached to the back. Lips parting in a silent "wow," you can't help but enjoy them. The shoes fit perfectly, to your surprise, and while everything is in place, you decide that you're finally ready to return to the men.

"Holy...." Sam draws out the syllables as his mouth hangs open. Bucky's eyebrows raise as his blue gaze rakes over your body, taking in all the details.

"du siehst-" Zemo shakes his head, "wunderschön aus," he comments. Gloved hands tugging on the lapels of his coat, he clears his throat before turning his gaze back upon the men. "Hopefully everything is to your liking." While he doesn't look at you, the comment was in your direction, that much you know. Bucky nods in agreement.

"Never seen you so dressed up before," Sam teases, a playful smile arcing across his lips.

Eyebrows raising in surprise and amusement, you lift a finger to beckon him over. Sam obeys. "Firstly, you've seen me at the annual galas many times- and-" you clear your throat and quietly lean toward him, clearly going to whisper something. Sam recognizes this and lets you have access to his ear. "There might be a slight problem." The hint of concern in your tone is what makes him lean back far enough to gauge your reaction.

"Oh no- what is it?" He asks, not bothering to lower his voice. This comment garners the attention of everyone in the cabin, all the men turning their gaze on you. With a swallow of the anxiety rising to your throat, you try not to crumble under their gaze. Bucky senses your nerves and looks back out the window. Zemo turns his gaze away just enough to let you two remain in his peripheral vision, but make you think otherwise.

A hand gently gripping the bicep of Sam's suit, you lean in again. "You..." you sigh, turning your face away for a moment to gather yourself, "can see my panties. Clearly. I-"

"Okay-" Sam interrupts, instantly retreating from your touch as he puts his hands up. "I don't really need to hear about that, but I'm sure it's fine! It's fine- no one will notice." With a speedy glance toward the problem, his lips purse into a line. The reaction is what causes the men to return their gazes upon you, clearly left out of the loop.

"I don't- I don't know what to do about it," you whisper-yell in Sam's direction. With another look away from the men, your hair concealing the embarrassed look on your face, you gather yourself again. A sigh escapes your lips. "I don't know if I should-"

"What's the issue?" Zemo asks, clearly piqued in interest. While his hands clasp together, you can't be sure if you've offended him by the slight raise of his brow, or if he's simply determined to resolve whatever it is that's bothering you. Lips parting once more, your eyes turn back toward Sam.

"Don't look at me," he reasserts, hands raising in a childish manner. It's as if he's pawning you off to some strange man. You suppose he is, though you know how close he and Bucky are. Is Bucky a better judge though? A better critic of this? "I... think you actually oughta ask Zemo. He'd probably know better- no offense," he turns the latter half on Bucky. Almost as if he'd been on the same trail of thought as you.

"How can I help?" Zemo questions again, taking a step toward you. He tilts his head slightly, clearly trying to deduce the problem as he gives you a once-over. Nose wrinkling up in embarrassment, you let another sigh escape you before letting your head fall for a moment. Clearly, you have to do this. It's fine, though... or at least that's what you keep reminding yourself over and over again in your mind. With a raise of your hand, you summon him over. He obliges, leaving a little space between you as your relationship isn't as close as yours and Sam's. Albeit you'd have thought the man who's more like a brother would be more willing to help and hear out an embarrassing problem than a stranger. Obviously not, it seems.

With a mindless quick lick of your lips, you step closer to the Baron. Closing the space, you place your hand on the bicep of his coat as you lean in to whisper. "I... might have an obvious panty line problem. I don't know if I should take them off, or... I don't know, I mean- there's the slit, and, what if I-"

The touch of his leather-gloved hand resting on your bare arm makes your words come to a stall. "You don't need to worry, Liebling. If you want to dance or are afraid of exposing yourself, you can have my coat. I would, however, suggest taking them off for the mission, at least. Unfortunately, it would raise questions and look out of place for..."

"For...?" You pressure, wanting to have asked him earlier what part it is, exactly, that you'll be playing.

"For a high-end escort," he answers. "If this makes you uncomfortable, you may see if James and Sam are willing to let you await us at the meeting spot." Removing his hand, he remains in the closeness you'd created, wanting to be available for further conversation. However, you're all well aware of the approaching landing.

A shake of your head reveals your answer. "No, I'll do it. I just wasn't sure if that was the best option, or..." your words trail off and you give him a shrug of your shoulders. He nods in understanding.

"Problem solved?" Sam asks from the seat he'd retreated to during your exchange with Zemo. While his eyes (and Bucky's) never left you two, he had no doubts that you'd be able to come to some sort of compromise. A huff of annoyance leaves your lips at Sam's attitude. You roll your eyes in his direction before turning on your heels and heading back to the lavatory.

The last thing you hear before getting out of earshot is Zemo questioning Sam on why he couldn't have an adult conversation with a woman he's so close to.

________

It looks as if it's just rained, and while it smells somewhat revolting there's nothing you can do besides follow the men. Lagging a few steps behind (considering your heels) you can't take your eyes off the magnificent lights. The architecture something to be admired along with the mountains in the distance surrounding the city. Boats sit anchored all along the bay, and you wonder if they're night-fishing, or perhaps partying since the boys had claimed Madripoor was something of a party city when you'd been briefed earlier this afternoon.

"We have to do something about this, I'm the only one who looks like a pimp," Sam complains. "At least you look, fashionable," he gauges your expression, rolling his eyes upon noticing your amusement.

"It's not that bad," you offer, hoping to make him feel better considering he needs the confidence for this plan to work.

"Only an American would think a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing," Zemo states. Your lips part in shock and awe. He's not wrong, however considering who he's responding to, his comment might be a little out of pocket. The generalization of Americans is something you try not to take personally.

Before you can comment on who truly looks like a pimp amongst your group, Zemo continues. "The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger." Tearing your gaze from the water once more, you find that Zemo not only has a phone but is handing it over to Sam.

"He even has a bad nickname," Your friend complains. Tilting the phone so you can see the image, a laugh bursts from your lips. "Hell, he does look like me, though."

"Can't deny that," you add on. If anyone's getting credit, it once again is Zemo. While Sam had criticized Bucky aggressively, you're starting to see why perhaps the Soldier went through with his plan. Continuing down the pavement, heels clacking against the hard material as your eyes roam the expanse of the bridge and city before you, the accompaniment of boots wetly stomping against the ground gives some sort of comfort. You're on your way, this will all be over before you know it.

"You smell this?" Zemo breaks the silence.

"Yeah, what is that? Acid?" Sam questions, indulging the conversation.

"Madripoor," Zemo answers. As a vehicle approaches, the ride Zemo had ordered not long before, he speaks again. "No matter what happens we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error."

If you weren't nervous before, you were now. Although your intrigue about he smells and Zemo's nonanswer have left your mind, you know that anxiety won't help anything. No matter what happens, you have to act believable. Do whatever it takes. There's a reason you joined this mission, and there's a reason Joaquin asked you to help out. The car pulls a U-Turn and stops just a few feet away.

"High Town's that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit," Zemo says, "but Low Town's the other way."

Anger once again infiltrates your system. Not only is Zemo giving out nonanswers and advice, you've walked over halfway down the bridge to High Town for what? Only to go back the way you'd come? As your mind starts to run over the possible reasons, you've been left no time to think as Bucky opens the door to the back of the car.

"And let me guess, we don't have any friends in High Town," Sam states. From your peripheral you see Zemo shake his head. He, of course, takes the passenger's seat. Most important people up front, you assume. While Bucky waits for you to get in, you slide into the middle and buckle up. Once he's in next to you and shuts the door, you're half-minded to thank him, but remember your rules: stay in character. If you were really the Baron's plaything you'd know that the Winter Soldier was nothing but something akin to more of... a doll, of sorts.

As thunder rumbles in the sky, you're glad that you guys had gotten in the car long before it started raining again. After all, your hair and makeup need to be presentable for this to work. The mindless soothing gesture of running your hands along the soft satin material of the red dress the Baron had picked out grounds you. As the ride passes you're simply happy to take in all the new scenery around you, admiring the nice vehicle's interior along with the way your acquaintances are dressed.

You hear the sound of motors before you're able to see them. While you can't exactly see the side mirrors of the car, you know there's more than just one on each side. As Sam looks around, so do you. Something sinks in your chest; whether it's fear or dread, you can't tell, but considering you're unsure who's manning the motorcycles now surrounding your car, it seems warranted.

Perception is a funny thing; everyone has their own, yet they're all vastly different. Self-aware people are hard to come by. In fact, you'd seen reports that only twenty percent of people are self-aware, while the outlying eighty percent goes through life blind. At least, that's how you'd surmise the data. Why is it funny? Well, it's simple. Everyone takes in certain things, and while you've always been once to take in all the fine details, there's another phenomena that sometimes follows secondary. Dissociation.

While the process is usually brought up as a form of coping with trauma, it never truly goes away once it comes up. Coupled with anxiety, time seems to be slipping away like a blur. Soon enough you're following Zemo down a walkway, focused solely on staying close. Upon approaching a series of stairs, you're standing over an enclave of Low Town. The lights, stalls, vendors, people, and activities all at a good viewing point from here.

Unaware of the fact that you'd stopped until Smiling Tiger bumps into your shoulder, you're shaken out of your stupor. He wasn't the only one to notice, however, as the next thing you know Zemo's taken ahold of your hand and is escorting you down the steps.

"Stay with me," he instructs, determined dark eyes searching your face. At the bottom of the stairs he tugs you by your hand in the direction you suppose the location.

He doesn't seem unfazed, yet the task of mentally processing your surroundings and staying in character almost feels like too much. Maybe this is why you were better off behind the scenes on most projects. It's the sight of guns, within view, at access, in foreign and unfamiliar territory that's doing this, you're sure. Though the thought that Bucky and Sam are there is somewhat comforting.

Following Zemo under a blue and purple neon sign in the shape of a screaming monkey, you can't help but smile. It's uncalled for, surely, but with all the conflicting emotions going on within your gut, you aren't too focused on your reactions.

Zemo says something, and you're sure it's Russian, however it's only the last word you can makeout as something that sounds like "Soldier" that lets you know he isn't talking to you. Walking through the crowded bar, Zemo releases your hand, only to wrap his plush-coated arm around you, keeping you close.

Though you're aware of the eyes falling upon your group, you don't entertain them, nor the whispers you start to hear filter up into a murmuring. It seems as though Zemo has a plan as he marches right up to the bar with you.

"Hello, gentlemen, and lady. Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger." The Bartender greets, putting down the glass he was cleaning.

"His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby," Zemo states. Eyes drifting up to his face, you offer him a coquette smile before turning it onto the Bartender in hopes of enticing him just slightly. After all, your mother always said that honey works better at trapping flies than vinegar.

"The usual?" The Bartender asks, suspicious eyes turning on Sam. Luckily, the man instantly plays along and nods. Taking in the blue lights that shine down from the truss they hang upon, your eyes scan the walls which you now only realize are made from something other than simply art. With inspection, you come to see they're the skulls of what you can only guess are monkeys. Which makes sense, considering the sign you'd seen outside. Zemo orders you both a round of shots, clearly focused on business.

Hand finding the Baron's gloved hand which still lies on your waist, you unravel yourself from his hold as you turn in his grip to lean against the bar to face him, hand still attached to his. With a moment to breathe, you join his hand with your other, both hands playing with the glove, one hand's fingers running along the length of his arm.

As Zemo turns back to look at you, he's distracted by the sight of what the Bartender is making. A split-second look of stun turns into a smirk as the man releases an amused "Ah." With curiosity, you'd followed the Baron's gaze, only to be equally, if not more stunned. "Smiling Tiger, your favorite." Noticing you, Zemo can't help but let out a laugh.

Met with a gutted snake, you can't help as your eyes widen and lips part. It only takes a second to follow suit as you turn to Smiling Tiger and offer a slightly amused and tight-lipped smile. "I just never get used to it," you comment, playing along.

As the Bartender slides over the shots Zemo had requested, the Baron picks them up, offering one to you. Faces turning to Sam, you both take stock of his reaction. One of you is seemingly challenging him, while the other is offering as much support as they can through their guise.

"I love these," Smiling Tiger states with confidence. Zemo raises his shot to your friend, you following suit before clinking glasses with your fake lover.

"Cheers, Conrad," Zemo announces. Downing the shots, you both return your gaze to him.

"Mmm," Smiling Tiger hums in anticipation, lifting the shot for a moment before he grimaces and hesitates. Just when you're about to encourage him, the man downs it in one go and doesn't make a face. Another faint hum of what you assume is truly disgust, but comes across as an unsettled stomach or perhaps going down the wrong way emanates from the man. With a thumbs up toward the Bartender, the man looks skeptical for a moment before turning and helping another customer.

Eyes still on Sam, it isn't until someone approaches your left, practically invading your personal space that you right yourself. Zemo's hand shoots past you to push you behind him as he squares off against the man. "I got word from on High. You ain't welcome here," the man states.

The Baron makes a noise of intrigue and thought before clicking his tongue against his teeth. "I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me..." a slap of his gloved hand against the bar brings everyone's attention to his gesture toward the Winter Soldier.

"New haircut?" The man asks, turning his attention on the Winter Soldier, who stares him dead in the eye, unflinching.

"Or bring Selby for a chat," Zemo threatens the man. Hands moving to rest on Zemo's back, you pretend to comfort him, offering your physical touch as some sort of grounding, or at least a reminder that you're there. He looks between the Winter Soldier and the Baron for a moment before leaving. Zemo shakes his head, to which you retract your hands, unsure if he's bothered, annoyed, or something else entirely.

"A power broker. Really?" Bucky asks, annoyance obvious in his voice.

"Every kingdom needs its king," Zemo explains, resting against the bar, himself, "Let's just pray we stay under his radar."

"Or hers," you challenge, joining him in leaning against the bar, even if you're really gauging the other side of the room and its crowd.

"Do you know him?" Smiling Tiger asks as he turns to be the lookout this time. "Or her?" He adds for your benefit, as you share a knowing look.

"Only by reputation," Zemo answers, turning to look at Smiling Tiger. "In Madripoor, he is judge, jury, and executioner." Clearly, the Baron seems to disagree with your theory. In earnest, it really is only a theory. People often underestimate others, and while there's a good chance only a man could survive the streets and business from what you've seen of Madripoor so far, you never know.

As you join suit and turn to look at your friend, it's only after Zemo calls for the Winter Soldier that you notice the person approaching from your left. As the Baron engages with Bucky, commanding him in Russian, you watch the man continue toward the former and extend a hand. Grimacing, you shake your head in a tacit form of advice. Of course, he didn't listen.

As soon as the man lands his hand on Zemo the Winter Soldier grabs it and backs him up a few feet. Eyes glued to the scene, you watch as Bucky easily throws the man to the ground and breaks his arm. People begin raising their phones to record the event as the man groans in pain on the floor. Another man runs at the Soldier to come to the groaning man's defense before throwing a punch. With a quick one-two combo, Bucky kicks him into another man who'd been coming to help.

It's somewhat shocking, watching the Winter Soldier throw someone onto a table. The table collapses and yet that's not where it's going to end, you can tell by the way Bucky continues stalking toward him. With a quick shift up to meet Zemo's face you're appalled to find him smiling. "You're not going to stop this?" You ask, momentarily forgetting your role. A doll of the Baron's would know what to expect... wouldn't they? Yet the thought hadn't crossed your mind. Hands reaching out toward the Baron's sleeve, there's a quick movement over Zemo's shoulder. Someone attempts to hit him, yet Zemo catches their arm and uses their momentum to push them toward the Winter Soldier.

Making quick work of the attacker, his body goes flying into a criss-cross metal beam before slumping onto the floor.

"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form," Zemo comments toward Smiling Tiger. His tone is almost amused, as if the thought was meant to provoke something from Sam. Taken aback by the quick spiraling of events, you jump as the Winter Soldier slams a man onto the bar and Zemo's hands simultaneously wrap around your waist. "Would you rather get what we came for, or be injured, even dead?" He whispers in your ear, nose nuzzling into your neck for a moment before he releases you, still keeping one hand on your waist.

The sound of guns cocking all around you makes your heart start racing as you force yourself to continue playing the part. Staring at Bucky's metal arm choking this man atop the bar, his hands attempt to scratch and claw for freedom to no use. You wouldn't be afraid of the danger, not if you were his lover. You'd probably get off on it, probably be used to it... something that to your character is entirely false. Stomach beginning to feel as though it's knotting up, you watch as Sam breaks character, hand shooting out to rest on Bucky's shoulder.

"Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us," Zemo murmurs through gritted teeth to Sam before commanding Bucky again in Russian. You think he's congratulating him, commanding the man's release? You aren't sure.

"Selby will see you now," The Bartender announces, eyes set upon your group as the man below Bucky's hand starts wheezing.

"Thank you," Zemo replies, nodding in the Bartender's direction.

In a matter of minutes, you've been led down corridor after corridor of sketchy, colorful doors and graffitied walls. With Zemo by your side, he keeps his hand snug on your hip as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you close. Now that you're being led behind the scenes of the public fronts, you're able to see that things are much more dangerous than you'd been led to believe. Cages line the walls of one room, different pricey items inhabiting their safe spots. On tables there are guns, drugs, and more money than you've ever seen in one place at one time. Cameras line a row of desks, the security clearly high, and well needed if your parts are the type of crowd they normally get.

"You should know, Baron, people don't just come into my bar and make demands," a white-haired woman speaks from across the room. As the guard with some type of rifle stands aside, it's clear you've come to your stop.

"Not a demand, an offer," Zemo clarifies. As he sits across from her in an armchair, he drags you with him, placing you on his knee. This time you know the part you're playing, and with the physical closeness, you figure it doesn't quite look right. Backing yourself up onto his lap, you turn your upper body toward him, slinging an arm around his neck and bringing your head to rest against it so you can pretend to admire him.

"A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?" Selby, the only person you can assume is her, based on how she holds herself, asks. She's testing him, you know that.

From her question, you know now is the time you can play. "We don't talk about that," you bite. Eyeing the velvet, patterned suit she wears, you take in her leopard-print tie and snakeskin couch. In your opinion, it's all so tacky. A two-thousands sort of 'elitism' look. Outdated certainly.

Zemo's gloved hand pats your hip a few times, his brown eyes turning to you, brows furrowing just for a moment. "It's fine, Meine Süße," he responds, voice much quieter and gentler, "I have not seen Selby in a long time! The question is only reasonable," he announces, turning his attention back on her. With a shrug, he answers. "People like us always find a way, don't we? I'm sure you've already figured out what I'm here for."

"Now, who's this?" A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips before she points at Sam, not taking her eyes off you as she gives you a once-over. "You're taller than I'd heard, Smiling Tiger." With a playful motion of cat claws, Selby purrs in his direction before finally turning her attention back on the both of you. "What's the offer?"

"She's none of your concern. Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum," Zemo lifts you onto the arm of the chair before standing and rounding the chair to pat the Winter Soldier's arms. "And I give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course." Running his gloved hands down Bucky's chin before jiggling it, you're stunned that the man hasn't broken once. "He will do anything you want," Zemo offers.

Selby begins to smile, and you think he's got her. "Now that's the Zemo I remember," she bemuses, to which, he grunts in acknowledgment, "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately-" she pauses, "-Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right."

The Baron listens, his face stoic as he walks your way. Plopping back into his seat, you let your hand snake its way up his shoulder and onto his collar as you play with the fluffy speckled fur.

"Now, you know I hate to ask things twice, but how do I know your little tramp won't go running around spreading things on the street?" Selby threatens. Eyes darting from Zemo to her, you can't help the way your eyebrows furrow and anger begins to simmer in your gut.

"Because she's not a tramp." Venom seeps from his voice. In an instant he's dragging you onto his lap again, gloved hand gripping your chin and turning your face to meet his. Without a moment to think he's pressing his lips to yours with a fervor you were entirely unexpecting. Gasping, you retract for a moment, eyes searching his for only a moment before you reconnect your lips. This is your part, this is what you have to do. You should've expected it, but here you are.

With the understanding that this is life or death, you know you have to make this convincing. As soon as he returns the kiss again, you revel in the way his plump and plush lips dance with your own. His hands slide from your waist downward, dangerously low, yet not quite touching your butt. You let yourself moan against his lips. While your dress is long, you're able to move enough to straddle him, even if it's tight. Noses brushing against one another as you both deepen the kiss, it's only once your lips part slightly, each of your breath fanning across the other's cheek in rapid pants that you find yourself grinding against him.

Upon realization you must've stopped, because it seems as though Zemo recognized your hesitation. Parting from the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours for a moment before lifting you again to rearrange you to sit across his lap this time. "I don't need to explain my relations to you, Selby, but I'll say this: if she's going anywhere, it's not without me." There's once again a determination in his eyes that you find yourself unable to tear away from. While you stare at the Baron, taking in every fine detail of his face, he doesn't meet your eye. Instead, his darkened eyes remain set on Selby.

"The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Doctor Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank-" Selby concedes, the mentioned named garnering your attention. "Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you're on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but...things didn't go as planned."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?" Zemo asks.

"Oh. the breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron," Selby taunts. Standing, she starts to cross over to the two of you, "And before you get all cute on me, don't think you can find him without me."

Suddenly there's a buzzing coming from Smiling Tiger's pocket. Everyone freezes. Eyes flitting to Sam, you don't dare break now.

"Answer it," Selby demands, "On speaker." The Winter Soldier crosses the room, now standing behind Selby, while she calls over one of her own guards. The biggest one.

"Hello?" Smiling Tiger greets.

"Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It's been drivin' me nuts," the voice of a female answers.

"What situation exactly are you talkin' about?" He responds.

"Are you high? You know what situation, it's the only situation me and you have," the voice retorts, getting agitated. Eyes on Smiling Tiger, you can still see out of your peripheral vision that Selby begins rounding the Winter Soldier, checking him out, you're sure.

"What situation, Sarah? Say it," Smiling Tiger demands. Sarah? That's... his sister. Shit.

"The damn boat. And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank," Sarah explains.

Selby begins to approach the armchair, the sound of something dragging across fabric makes you think she's grazing the chair to intimidate you all. Smiling Tiger scoffs. "The bank? Yeah. Laundered so much..." He chuckles as if he were doing his best 'villain impression' and not actually in a life-or-death situation. "Yeah, they'll come around."

"If that was the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?" Sarah questions. This isn't good, this is poking holes in his character. You know this must sound suspicious to Selby. Eyes finally beginning to break, you turn your gaze toward Bucky for a second, his gaze unmoving, so you turn back to meet Zemo's gaze. His hand tightens on your waist.

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed," Smiling Tiger threatens.

"Cass! What'd I tell you about the Cheerios? I don't have time for this! Sam, I'm sorry- let me call you back." The beep of the call ending fills the room.

"'Sam'? Who's Sam?" Selby asks, eyes gauging you all. "Kill them!" The command comes quick, yet the bullet comes quicker. Glass breaks somewhere behind you and you're jumping in your skin. Sam goes for the man beside him, Zemo throws you off his lap. Bucky grabs the man to your left, knocking him out with his own gun before you're all running to the exit, or rather, the door you'd come in from.

"They're gonna pin this on us," Sam warns, back against the door as he's armed with one of the men's guns. Bucky stands lookout with the gun he'd picked up. Now you're panicking, wondering why the hell you didn't pick up a gun?! Heart thumping wildly in your chest, you run a hand through your hair, anxiety rampant.

Zemo sighs. "We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead," he directs. In an attempt to play nonchalant, you all exit the casino you'd entered and wind through the confusing corridors until you're back in the bar you'd come through originally. Walking out of the bar, you're doing your best to keep up in stride with the men as you're not as tall, and your strides certainly don't match theirs-- even in heels.

It's only once you're out on the street that you hear phones chiming left and right, everyone's eyes falling on your group. Motion from your right garners your attention and you stumble, a woman within a shop's window making a finger gun towards all of you and shooting you repeatedly. "This is not good," Zemo states. Almost at the crossroads just beyond the train tracks, the lights above you go out. Someone ahead of you starts unloading a clip, the banging of metal and clinking of empty casings ring throughout the air.

Everyone ducks, "Shit!" you hear Sam yell, while you'd made a noise that could only resemble someone being punched in the guts. A hand grabs yours and tugs at you. It's Zemo. Running after him, he guides you through the streets of Madripoor into an alleyway and around trash cans, litter, boxes, and through gates.

On the corner at a crossroads of which path to take, you spot quick movement from your peripheral vision on the left. Pushing Zemo into another alley, you hear a metallic boing echo, a telltale sign of ricocheted fire. Someone is clearly still following you both. His dark eyes widen in surprise, and though the moment feels drawn out as you both stare at one another, a nearby bang reignites his fervor. Tugged through the dirty, puddled streets of Madripoor. You're approaching another road when Zemo pushes you behind the wall of a deserted outdoor booth.

A gloved hand covers your mouth as the Baron crams himself between you, the wooden pallets of the vacant vendor stall, and the brick wall of the alleyway. There's a slight light flooding out from one of the apartments on the second story. In this, you see the wild look in his brown eyes. Ignoring the obvious closeness of your chests pressed against one another, and the rapid beating of your hearts thumping, you can't help but realize where your hands are. Having reached out in the heat of the moment for some sort of stabilization, your palms rest against the thick fur coat on either side of his hips.

Before you can question his intentions, the wet pounding of boots echoes down the alleyway. Whoever had been pursuing was running, only for their footsteps to stall. The constant pounding turns into an occasional splash as they step through puddle after puddle. Feet uncomfortable as Zemo's leg had wound up between yours, you slightly shift under his weight. He shakes his head, clearly worried about the person as their footsteps start to sound more and more distant. If either of you make a noise, they'll come back.

Luckily, they don't hear, it seems as the footsteps get more and more quiet, more distant. Though Zemo doesn't move. Another half a minute passes before he finally releases you, letting you exit the hiding spot first. "My apologies," he offers, clearly wanting to make his intentions clear. "I only meant to-"

"-Save us, I got it," you cut him off. "thanks." Not wanting to further discuss or acknowledge what'd just happened, you try to put it out of your mind. Ignore the flickers of desire that had bubbled up upon his proximity.

"Precisely," he adds. While it seems he wanted the last word, it doesn't go over your head how both of you seem to want to move on or change the topic. Refocusing on what's next, you realize finding Sam and Bucky might be hard given you're in unfamiliar territory.

Following Zemo through the streets, it doesn't take long for the nearby sound of Bucky and Sam bickering to alleviate your worries. Hot on their trail, you and Zemo give each other an amused look before running off in the direction of their sound.

"You seem to have a guardian angel," Zemo states, bewildered, as the both of you round a dumpster and meet up with the rest of your group. Relief fills you as you're more than grateful you'd found them and you're all still seemingly in one piece.

"Well this is too perfect," A feminine voice states from behind you. Upon turning you find that a gun's being held to your group, though more specifically, him. "Drop it, Zemo," she commands. The Baron puts his gun on the ground and you back up, watching as Bucky squints in her direction, while Sam raises his hands in surrender.

"Sharon?" Bucky questions. The name sounds familiar, though you can't place her face or name. The woman still approaches, gun aimed at Zemo.

"You cost me everything." Her tone is low... her eyes dangerous. She's clearly here for one purpose and one purpose only: she's going to kill him.

"Sharon, wait-" Sam begs, and you all find yourselves joining him in raising your hands in surrender. Placing himself between her and the gun, Sam defends him "-Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead," he explains.

"Well, that explains why you guys are here, and Selby's dead." Righting her head from having tilted it while assessing all of you, she continues to eye each one of you.

"So what are you doing here?" Bucky asks, daring to take a step forward. With the way there's still a pit in your stomach, it takes a moment to dawn on you. He's deescalating the situation; he's using a military tactic. Or perhaps a psychological tactic, you're unsure. Either way, he's doing something, which is better than you can say for yourself.

"I stole Steve's shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass-" she points the gun at Sam, then at Bucky, and finally Zemo. "-so that you could save his ass from his ass. Unlike you I didn't have the Avengers to back me up. So I'm off the grid in Madripoor," she explains. Doing mental calculations in your mind you try to place how a woman like this could have access to Steve's shield. That's when it hits you. Sharon Carter, the woman who'd been in a relationship with Steve for a while. You'd heard her mentioned once or twice by Sam and Joaquin, she held a high-ranking position in the CIA until... well, until the whole ordeal happened with the Avengers... with Zemo.

"Hey, don't blow smoke at me. I was on the run, too," Sam argues.

"Was. Is. Big difference. I don't speak to my family anymore. I can't. My own father doesn't know where I am," she clarifies, finally lowering her gun. With everything you've put together, it makes sense why she'd be angry at them. Hell, why she'd even want to kill Zemo, you get.

"Listen, Sharon we need your help," Bucky states, taking another step closer. Sharon chuckles, an incredulous look on her face you recognize all too well. They're asking for her help... again. After she says she's lost everything because of them. "Please," Bucky begs. Sharon sighs, and you finally feel your shoulders droop and relax a little. While you don't know her personally, you feel for her. With all that'd happened in the last few minutes it only comes to realization now how the guys had taken each moment of conversation during their attempts at deescalation to from a blockade in front of you and Zemo.

"This isn't over," Sharon warns, "I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for awhile." With a nod of her head in the direction you'd come, Bucky follows her. You follow him, and looking back momentarily you spot Sam pushing Zemo.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove

#helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #tfaws reader insert #tmt #the missing title #my series #my writing #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #read tags on top #the falcon and the winter soldier reader insert

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sunriserose1023 · 3 months

Text

Point of Ignition [seven]

WARNINGS: Illness, fever, taking care of sick people, medications WORD COUNT: 3112

masterlist

The door opened before you could knock on it, revealing Bucky standing there with a huge smile on his face.

“Welcome home, Pidge.”

He took your bags, carrying them down the hall to his room as you took your shoes off at the door. Natasha was sitting in Sam’s lap on the couch, a smile on her plump lips.

“Nice to see you again.” “Oh, shut up.”

Sam cackled at you, giving Natasha’s thigh a squeeze. Bucky walked back into the room and straight to you, hands going to your hips as he lifted you and twirled you around.

“I’m so glad you’re home!” “Put me down!”

Natasha laughed as Bucky set you on your feet, throwing an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

“I say pizza to celebrate. Who’s with me?”

You stepped into the apartment, soaked to the skin from the thunderstorm that caught you without an umbrella as you walked back from class. Bucky had offered to drop you off and pick you up, but no. You’d refused in an effort to try to get more exercise.

Stupid.

You shivered as the cool air in the apartment blew over your dripping form. Not only had the thunderstorm come out of nowhere, but it brought with it rapidly dropping temperatures. You sneezed, making a face as you trudged down the hall to the bathroom, not worrying about the puddles you were leaving behind.

You turned the shower on and let it warm up, making a face as you wrestled out of your soaking wet clothes. You left them in a pile on the floor and climbed into the shower, shivering at first, then moaning softly as the warmth of the water finally started to warm you.

“Pidge?”

You jerked your head up, turning around and covering your naked body.

“Bucky, what the hell?!” “Oh, relax. I can’t see anything. You’ve got everything steamed up in here.” “Get out!” “Relax, pigeon. Did something spring a leak or—“ “No, that was me. I got caught in the rain. “You walked all the way from campus in this storm? Fuck, Pidge. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hung your head, creeping further under the warm water. Your voice was soft when you answered.

“I don’t know.”

Bucky didn’t respond for a moment, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him gather your clothes in his arms.

“I’ll get you some warm clothes and throw these in the wash. Jesus, Pidge, these things are soaked.” “Buck—“

The door closed and you sighed, sniffling once before you grabbed the shampoo on the soap ledge.

You dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and one of Bucky’s hoodies that he’d left out for you on his bed. It practically swallowed you, but it was warm and smelled like him. You made your way down the hall, sniffling once and swallowing, then making a face. You went for the kitchen and got a bottle of water, then turned to see Bucky sitting on the couch with a blanket beside him. He tore his eyes from the TV and glanced your way as a soft smile came to his lips.

“Come cuddle with me and watch a movie. Let me warm you up.”

You raised an eyebrow and he chuckled.

“I did not mean that as sexual as it sounded.”

You made your way to the living room, shaking your head.

“I’m not sitting on that couch.” “It’s been cleaned and sanitized.”

You stared at him and he shook his head, eyes wide.

“What? I’m serious!”

You held your ground, narrowing your eyes and he sighed.

“Alright, I sprayed some Febreze and flipped the cushions. It’s the best I could do.”

You sighed, but smiled as you made your way to him, sitting beside him and tucking your feet under you. Bucky reached over you, grabbing the blanket and tucking it around you.

“Did the shower help?” “A little. I’m still kind of cold.” “Well, come here.”

He all but scooped you up, tugging you close to his side and keeping an arm around you. You started to shake your head, but instead, you leaned into him.

“God, you’re like a furnace.” “I’ve always run hot. Want me to take my shirt off? Oh, you know body heat is the best way to warm someone.” “You’re a comedian, I swear.”

Bucky chuckled, giving your arm a gentle rub. He picked up the remote, pointing it at the television.

“Disney movie or that new murder doc on Hulu?” “Disney. Can we watch Tangled?" “Sure you don’t want to watch Lady and the Tramp, Pidge?”

You gave a quiet laugh, laying your hand on Bucky’s flat stomach.

“Put that one on next.”

Bucky smiled.

“You got it.”

Natasha stepped into the apartment and pulled the hood of her rain jacket back, shaking her head.

“It’s a monsoon.”

Sam was behind her, shaking out the umbrella and leaving it outside by the door.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s stopping anytime soon.”

He started to go into the apartment, stopping when Natasha was in the way, completely still.

“Nat, it’s cold out here. Go in.” “Look.”

Sam leaned around her, eyebrows raising when he saw you and Bucky on the couch. Bucky was stretched out across the cushions, head on the armrest, one arm behind his head. You were curled around him, head on his chest, huddled under a blanket, and his other arm was around you.

Sam lifted Natasha by her hips and set her inside, giving himself enough room to close the door behind them. Sam glanced at the TV, chuckling under his breath when he noticed the Disney Plus login screen. He shrugged his jacket off, hanging it on a hook near the door, then looked at his watch.

“Should we wake them up to eat?” “I don’t know. Does her face look flushed to you?”

Sam walked a little closer to the couch, stopping when Bucky shifted, arm tightening around you, holding you a bit closer. He leaned down, then stood back up.

“Uh oh. Yeah, it does.” “Crap. I hope she’s not sick. When she gets sick, she gets hospital sick.” “Maybe it’s just because she’s got a hoodie on under that blanket. Plus, she’s all up on Buck. He’s like a damn furnace.”

Natasha nodded, biting her lip.

“Yeah, maybe.” “Come on. Let’s let them rest and make it an early night.”

Bucky opened his eyes to find the apartment dark, save for the light above the stove. He closed his eyes again and sighed, opening them and smiling when he saw you sleeping on his chest.

“Pidge, let’s go to bed.”

You made a soft noise, and Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed how warm his chest was. He lifted a hand to brush it against your face, eyes widening when his fingers registered the scorch of your skin.

“Shit, Pidge, you’re burning up. Hey, baby, wake up.”

You moaned, slowly blinking your eyes open. Bucky swallowed at the look in your eyes and how flushed your cheeks were.

“Can you sit up?”

You did, with his help, groaning at the ache in your bones.

“Bucky, I don’t feel good.” “I know, pigeon. Hang tight for a second.”

You whimpered as he climbed off the couch, closing your eyes and shivering.

“Open your mouth, Pidge.”

You did, keeping your eyes closed as Bucky slid the thermometer under your tongue. You jolted when a beeping noise sounded, opening your eyes to see Bucky’s widen as he stared at the thermometer.

“Oh, you’re sick, honey.”

He turned the thermometer to show you where the display read 102 degrees. You met his eyes and he held up a finger, leaving you to go into the kitchen. You closed your eyes again, waking when Bucky sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“Take this.”

He placed two pills in your hand and you stuck them in your mouth, swallowing them with a glass of water. You winced at the ache in your throat and Bucky nodded.

“Drink it all for me, Pidge.” “Buck—“ “I know. Drink it anyway.”

You nodded, sipping from the glass until it was empty. Bucky took it from you, standing to his feet and holding out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.”

You put your hand in his and stood up, leaning against him when your knees buckled.

“Easy, Pidge. Let’s just stand here a minute.”

You rested your head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” “I don’t feel good.” “I know."

You moved closer to him, putting your forehead against his neck.

“Jesus, Pidge. You’re so hot.” “Stop trying to … get in my pants.”

Bucky laughed.

“I meant it literally, but whatever you say.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, taking a step forward. You moved with him and together, you slowly made your way down the hall.

Hot.

You were so hot, but that must have been because you were huddled under a pile of blankets. You managed to fight your way out from under the blanket pile, a feat which exhausted you so much you fell asleep.

Cold.

You opened your eyes to find yourself curled into a ball, entire body trembling. Your teeth were even chattering. You slowly turned your head to see blankets in reach, but your arms hurt to move them. Your legs were the same way. It felt like your entire skeleton just ached, and all you could do was moan softly.

“Hey, everything’s okay. You cold?”

You opened your eyes to see Bucky standing over you. You nodded and he reached for the blankets, gently laying them over you.

“Open your mouth for me, Pidge.”

You did, eyes drifting closed as he stuck a thermometer under your tongue. You jolted when it beeped, opening your eyes to see Bucky sigh.

“Hanging steady at 102. It's time for some more Tylenol, okay?”

You just stared at him and he smiled at you.

“I’ll be right back, Pidge.”

You winced as you snuggled your aching body down under the covers. You forced your eyes to stay open, teeth still chattering. Bucky walked back into the room and placed two pills and a glass on the bedside table.

“I know this is going to suck, but you’ve got to sit up to take the pills.” “No, Bucky, please.” “Come on, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You moaned as he helped you sit up, moving behind you so you could rest against him. You were breathing hard from the exertion, and Bucky held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and he slipped the pills in, the glass of water held to your lips a second later. You swallowed the pills, finishing the water at Bucky’s gentle coaxing.

He set the empty glass back on the bedside table, and you took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you settled against him.

“Let’s get you back comfortable, okay?”

You nodded, Bucky’s hands gentle as he helped you lay back down. He covered you with the blankets, gently brushing your hair off your forehead. You opened your eyes and stared up at him.

“Stay with me.”

He blinked as he watched your eyes drift closed a few seconds before they opened again. You slid a hand from beneath the covers and Bucky smiled. He moved to slide in the bed on his side, inching up behind you until he was spooning you, holding you on top of the covers.

“I can’t stay long. Nat and Sam need their meds in about an hour and it’s a fight every time.” “Mm-hmm.”

Bucky gave a quiet laugh, feeling your body relax as you fell back to sleep. He sighed, bending where his forehead was against your shoulder. He could feel the heat of your fever through his t-shirt you were wearing, and he knew he’d be back in an hour or two to give you another fever reliever.

He’d been doing everything he could for the past two days, but your fever never dipped under one hundred. Nat and Sam had started running fever yesterday and last night respectively, and Bucky was constantly praying he’d miss this illness. He was pretty sure you all had the flu, and a campus-wide email of multiple classes being canceled only fueled his theory. Bucky had called the campus clinic, which was overrun with sick students, and when someone had finally taken his call, they told him to try to keep the fevers managed and to visit the ER if they got too high or any breathing problems arose.

You were snoring softly, thanks to the congestion in your head, and Bucky snuggled closer to you. He wasn’t doing much to protect himself from getting sick, but you were his priority at the moment. He let himself close his eyes, just listening to you breathe.

“Pidge. Hey, sweetheart.”

You moaned, gasping when a cool, damp rag was pressed to your forehead. You opened your eyes to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, another cool rag in his hand.

“I’m going to put this on your neck, okay?”

You nodded, gasping again when the cool rag touched your skin. You brought your fever-glazed eyes to his and Bucky sighed.

“Your fever’s at 104. We’ve got to get it down, okay?”

You just stared at him and he licked his lips.

“Come on, sit up for me.” “No.” “Yeah, come on.”

You moaned and whimpered as he helped you sit up, gasping again when he pulled his hoodie off of you.

“Bucky.” “I know, baby. I know.” “I don’t feel good.”

Bucky nodded, then sighed.

“This is probably going to suck, but I need you to do this for me, okay?”

You just stared at him, and he slid an ice pack covered in a dish towel under your arm. You shook your head, trying to move away, but Bucky gently caressed your face.

“I know, Pidge. I know. Just for a little while. I’ve got to get your fever down, okay?” “Buck—“ “It’s this or the ER, and I don’t want to have to take you there, okay?"

You whimpered, moaning again when he put another ice pack under your other arm. You gave a pitiful whine and Bucky dragged a hand down his face.

“I don’t even know if this will fucking work. Damn Google, but this was the only thing I could try. Maybe a bath? But you would be miserable in lukewarm water.”

He blew out a breath, going still and turning to look at you when your hand touched his. He gave you a smile, reaching to brush your hair away from your face.

“You’re okay. I’m right here.” “Don’t go.” “Not a chance.”

You nodded, eyes heavy. Bucky picked the rag up from your forehead, turning it to the cool side before placing it back on you. You gave a shaky breath, but closed your eyes, linking your fingers with his as you drifted back to sleep.

Bucky shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. Sam’s fever was at 100, Natasha’s at 101, but they both took the medicine he gave them with minimal fuss, falling asleep almost immediately after finishing the glasses of water he’d all but forced down their throats.

He went to the kitchen and dropped off the empty glasses, washing his hands and just standing there for a moment. He looked at the clock on the stove, then made his way back to his room, where you were sleeping, a smile coming to his lips when he found you with the covers kicked off.

“Thought you were freezing even after I took the ice packs.”

You sighed in your sleep and he shook his head, gathering the blankets and pulling them over you, reaching to push your sweaty hair off your face.

Wait.

He laid a hand against your forehead, your skin warm, but nowhere near as scorching as it had been. He fumbled for the thermometer and brought it to your lips, slipping it under your tongue without you waking. It beeped and he pulled it from your lips, nearly shouting with relief when he saw the 101.

“Thank God, Pidge. Oh, thank God.”

He put his head in his hand, using the other to cradle your face, sparks flying in his heart when you leaned into his touch.

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was that you didn’t feel quite as bad as you had the past few days. You definitely weren’t ready to run any marathons, but you thought you could manage walking down the hall to the kitchen. As soon as you attempted to move out of Bucky’s hold, he was awake.

“What is it, Pidge? What do you need?” “No, I … I’m okay.”

Bucky sniffled, running a hand over his scruffy face.

“Let me grab your meds.” “Hey, Bucky.”

He turned his head to look at you, eyes widening as he turned his body towards yours.

“Hey. Your eyes look clear.”

You closed your eyes when he reached out a hand, gently pressing it against your forehead.

“Oh my God.”

He rolled to grab the thermometer off his nightstand and you automatically opened your mouth at his silent prompt. When the thermometer beeped, Bucky took it out of your mouth and looked down at it, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Holy shit, Pidge. Your fever’s gone.”

He laughed again, reaching to take your face in his hands and bringing you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. He laughed again, gathering you into his arms and pulling you close.

“Thank God. Thank God, Pidge, fuck.”

You smiled as you snuggled close to him, putting your nose in his neck. Bucky sighed, hand gently moving up and down your back.

“You scared the shit out of me, Pidge. Don’t do that again.” “I’m sorry.”

He sighed again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. How are you feeling?” “Better. Still kind of wonky, but much better than the last few days.”

Bucky nodded.

“You hungry?”

You wrinkled your nose.

“Not really.” “How about some toast? We’ll have breakfast and get your strength up and maybe you can try a shower later.” “You trying to tell me something?”

Bucky laughed, giving your arm a squeeze.

“Never, Pidge. I’m just so happy you’re better.”

You moved the slightest bit closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as he held you just a bit tighter.

PREVIOUS//NEXT

#point of ignition series #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #bucky barnes #mcu au #marvel au #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic

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justagirlinafandomworld · 1 year

Text

Stolen Moments

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Song Prompt from Unclaimed Love Songs: Sea of Love by Cat Power

Word Count: 100

Summary: Worlds apart, he’d find a way to steal a moment with you.

Sunlight streamed through the open window to wash over bed, sweetly warming your flesh after a night chilled by the ocean breeze. Limbs stretched, back arched, you immediately felt his cool presence at your back. An arm wrapped round your waist and lips peppered kisses across your neck, up your cheek.

“Is this real?”

His hum tickled your ear.

“For now.”

Rolling onto your back you stared up into his pale face, his blue eyes studying you with a tenderness revealed only in the privacy of these moments.

You whispered against his lips, “then let’s make the most of it.”

#unclaimed love songs flash fiction challenge #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki/reader #loki/you #loki drabble #loki x reader drabble #mcu reader insert #reader insert

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femalexfuries · 1 year

Text

Sleepover

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

AU: Strength

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Only, Tall!Bodybuilder!Natasha, FitnessModel!Wanda, Small!Reader, Age Play, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink

Length: 2.4K

Summary: Natasha comes to spend the weekend with you and Wanda.

A/N: This is mainly Wanda and Natasha being soft for you and general fluff. I’m still toying with what comes next in this AU and potentially including some smut if people are interested.

“No running!” came Wanda’s voice over the sound of your feet rapidly hitting the hardwood floor.

You come skidding to a stop right as the front door opens to reveal Natasha entering with a large duffel bag. Since your first meeting almost a month ago she had made a habit of coming over consistently to spend time with you and Wanda. Although she would usually stay until past your bedtime and help with your nighttime routine, she was never there in the morning when you woke up.

Last week you had a particularly rough evening and kept waking up during the night to cry and free yourself from the ongoing nightmares. Wanda spent much of her own night sitting awake with you, doing her best to comfort and calm you. At one point she took a chance and called Natasha who answered the phone after several tries and graciously did her best to help soothe you despite being woken up in the middle of the night. You were finally able to sleep after a bit more coaxing and woke up the next day thinking that, in your sleep induced haze, the older woman had been with you the whole time.

After finding Wanda alone in the kitchen quietly sipping her coffee and flipping through a magazine, you quickly searched the rest of the house for any sign of Natasha. After coming up unsuccessful, you re-entered the kitchen and suddenly burst into tears; surprising both yourself and Wanda. She was able to calm you down after a moment and discover that the reason for your sudden outburst was her partner’s absence.

“What’s that?” you say, pointing at the bag slung over Natasha’s broad shoulder.

“Just a few things for later,” she says noncommittally.

You frown slightly knowing that she was being coy and walk over to pull on the pack.

“Let me see!”

“There’s nothing you need to worry about in here,” she says, giving a playful eye-roll.

With a huff you give up after a moment and head back into the living room to plop yourself on the couch next to Wanda. She raises an eyebrow at your subtle attempt to show displeasure and watches as Natasha gives a wink as she passes by to put down her bag in the master bedroom.

The older woman returns after only a moment and places a DVD down next to the television before joining the two of you on the couch. You squint slightly to try and read the words written on the side of the case but are unable to decipher them due to the distance and dim lighting.

“Do you have what you need for tonight?”

Wanda’s words make you whip your head to the side to look at her in bewilderment. She copies your puzzled look for a moment before feigning remembrance with an added dramatic wave of her hand.

“Oh, we must not have told you! Mommy is so silly sometimes.”

“Tell me what, Mommy?” you say with rapidly growing suspicion.

There is a beat of silence that makes your nerves tense until you see the smiles playing at both women’s lips.

“Daddy is spending the weekend!” Wanda says suddenly with excitement and starts to tickle your side.

You squeal and try to keep her hands at bay by scooting over to where Natasha sat looking altogether very pleased with herself. Once close enough, you launch into her lap and turn to smush her face between your little hands.

“All weekend?” you say hopefully.

She nods her head and laughs lightly as your smile grows and you bury your face into her neck. Ever the showoff, Natasha puts her hands under your arms and with one fluid motion lifts you up into the air as she stands and tosses you up gently.

“Nat! Be careful! Don’t hurt her!”

Wanda’s words are light but the meaning behind them is serious. She is nothing if not a worrier and is constantly concerned with your safety and how even the slightest bit of roughhousing may end up injuring you. Natasha joked that, if possible, she would have you in a protective bubble at all times to make sure you never came even close to harm's way.

“She’s fine, Wanda! She’s my little koala,” Natasha said gleefully while you grabbed onto one of her arms and tried to start climbing on her.

Although appearing quite stricken, Wanda gave no further argument as she watched you scoot your way down to cling to the older woman’s torso.

“Okay, little one, get down before Mommy has a heart attack.”

You whine but allow her to untangle your limbs and set you down on the floor. The faux pout you wear quickly disappears once the idea of mac and cheese for dinner is brought up.

—

“Put your arms up so we can get this on,” Natasha says as she pulls your dinosaur sleep shirt over your head.

You comply readily and then balance yourself on her forearms as she helps you step into the matching pants. Wanda had given you a bath while the job of brushing your teeth and hair and getting you dressed went to the older woman. The two did well to balance responsibilities and always made sure that you knew that they were more than happy to help their little girl with such big tasks.

“Alright, baby,” she says, handing you Paws the stuffed bear. “Go see Mommy and we’ll cuddle for a bit before bedtime.”

Without a word you took off into the living room where Wanda sat on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand. You intended to curl up next to her but the new DVD on the console table catches your eye. The cover is unsettling and amassed with critics’ reviews referring to this as the scariest movie of the year and a truly terrifying experience. Although you were easily frightened, you did enjoy watching scary movies once in a while if for nothing else than being able to have Wanda hold you close and comfort you. Most of the time you hardly looked at the screen as your face would be buried into her chest or covered by your hands.

“That might be a little too scary for you, baby. I know Daddy brought that over to watch this weekend, but to be honest, I was thinking we would watch that once you were off to bed.”

Hearing that Wanda and Natasha were going to have fun without you made a deep frown set into your features. You put the DVD back down and hug Paws to your chest tightly. As she entered the room, the older redhead took a quick look at you before glancing over to where her partner sat with an unamused expression.

“Mommy doesn’t want you to be up all night or afraid, darling. There’s no need to be grumpy.”

You deflate slightly at her reasoning, knowing she had your best interest at heart. Not ready to give up totally, however, you grab the movie and walk over to where Natasha now sat to stand between her legs.

“Daddy,” you say in your smallest, sweetest voice, “I wanna watch too.”

“Nat,” comes the warning tone beside you both.

“Does Mommy let you watch scary movies?” she asks genuinely.

“Sometimes,” you say with a shrug.

Natasha turns to look at her partner who wears an exasperated expression.

“Fine,” she says, setting her glass down to throw her hands up. “But if you get too scared you need to make sure you keep waking Daddy up all night.”

—

You were doing okay for a bit while sandwiched between both women and wrapped in your favorite blanket. As the movie went on and things became darker with the jump-scares adding up, however, you started to become more anxious.

“Mama,” you say quietly.

Wanda recognizes the tone instantly and can tell you’re feeling anxious.

“You’re okay, baby. Mommy and Daddy are right here. We can turn this off if you want.”

You bite your lip and turn to bury yourself in Natasha’s side. A pair of large but gentle hands easily pull you over onto her lap where she begins to lightly pat your back as you lean forward onto her chest.

“You and Daddy are watching,” you say dejectedly.

Wanda raises a brow despite knowing your eyes are closed and your face is hidden away in the crook of Natasha’s neck.

“We can turn something else on though, sweetheart. Daddy and I don’t mind.”

You whimper pitifully and pull on the older woman’s shirt.

“Do you want SpongeBob? Or maybe Scooby?”

Although you loved both shows, you wanted to prove you could watch the same things as the older women. Scooby-Doo was never truly frightening but you could tell Natasha suggested the show to make you feel like you were still able to watch something scary.

“I’m not a baby,” you say in a tiny voice.

The irony of your words is not missed by either woman and the two share a knowing look.

“But you are, little one. You’re my sweet baby girl who is always trying so hard to be bigger than she really is. There’s no need to pretend when Mommy and Daddy know you’re so tiny.”

The confidence in Natasha’s voice drowned out any lingering doubt you may have about the validity of her words. You resign to simply nod your head and continue to rest comfortably in her hold as the world becomes fuzzier and sleepiness sets further in.

—

You wake with a start, sweat covering every inch of your body as your heart threatens to beat right out of your chest. The nightmare was not extraordinary but enough to shake you and cause your subconscious to wake you and escape the false reality. For a moment you simply lay still and allow the shakes to exit your body while you grip the sheets beneath you and try to ground yourself.

Not long after Natasha calmed and held you did you fall asleep on her and miss the final act of the movie. After seeing that you were indeed fast asleep, Wanda paused the feature and waited as her partner carefully tucked you into your bed with your prized bear. The two waited several minutes in silence, the glow of the TV illuminating them, to see if you would wake yourself and come running back out. When no sign of your being awake came, and Wanda was satisfied you were truly asleep after checking on you herself, the two finished watching the remainder of the movie before heading to bed themselves.

In your mind, still hazy from sleep and fuzzy from how small the women made you feel right before passing out, you had been left alone to your own devices in the darkness of your bedroom. No matter the usually safe location, danger could be lurking nearby and you were powerless to stop the forces that would surely come to harm you.

A bit of shuffling beside your bed made you freeze instantly and a bead of sweat dropped down your temple. You knew that your Mommy had no pets and there would be no other reason for any amount of movement on your floor or elsewhere in your room. The realization that someone must be inside with you made your heart race and you began to cry suddenly at the realization that you were doomed to suffer an unfortunate fate.

“Ugh, baby?”

A voice.

While familiar, the shock made you cry out once again and you tried to hide your head under your pillow. You wanted someone to come save you from whoever was in the room and were much too terrified to check for yourself.

“Y/N! What’s wrong, honey?”

Another voice echoes from beyond your room and is followed quickly by the sound of the door swinging open and the lightswitch flipping on.

“Mommy’s here, baby girl. What’s wrong?!”

Wanda sounds concerned and rips the pillow off your head to make sure you are still breathing in your hiding space. Her green eyes meet yours briefly as you squint to acclimate to the sudden brightness of the room.

“Mommy,” you say, lip wobbling dangerously, “somebody’s in my room!”

She looks around your room for several seconds before shouting in a mildly irritated voice.

“Natasha, will you get up!”

You think your Mommy is yelling for the other woman to follow her inside and are surprised when she suddenly sits up from the floor and into your line of sight.

“What’s going on?”

She does not sound nearly as worked up as Wanda and appears more confused than anything.

As the older woman rubs her eyes and the tension starts to slowly leave your body, Wanda begins to relax slightly as well. She drops her shoulders and looks at you with a saccharine expression.

“Y/N. Did Daddy sleeping on the floor scare you? Did you not see her there?”

“On the floor?” you say, now more perplexed than frightened.

You scoot over slightly to see that, indeed, Natasha appeared to be sleeping on the ground with a pillow and one of your blankets that is comically small while draped over her body.

“Daddy slept on the floor next to you because she thought you would get scared in the night, which…”

She trails off quietly and turns to smile at you, a hint of a laugh threatening to escape. You scrunch your nose up slightly in confusion as to why she would choose to sleep on the ground.

As if sensing your question and attempting to wake herself up more, Natasha responds.

“Your bed is a twin, baby. That’s not big enough for me by myself; let alone both of us. Tell your Mommy to invest in an air mattress or something.”

You giggle at this and watch as the older woman tries to get herself off the floor using her still obviously stiff muscles. She was clearly not a light sleeper in general and her time on the floor seemed to do a number on her.

“Mommy? We can all go in the big bed?”

You phrase the question as hopefully as possible; not wanting to be left to fall back asleep in your room alone.

Wanda nods her head before motioning toward the door. Her unspoken request is quickly followed as you grab Paws and head off toward the master bedroom with a groggy Natasha close behind.

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu reader insert #femalexfuries writing

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